Diplomatic Conflict Resolution
by Kavery12
Summary: Explosions, conspiracies, spies, hijackings and two very irritated Starfleet captains looking for alternative, satisfactory methods of conflict resolution.
1. Expediency in Negotiation

I do not own Supernatural or Star Trek 2009.

This is the first multi-chapter story *takes a nervous deep breath* Suggestions are very welcome, particularly regarding story pacing and character interaction (although the plot's pretty well mapped out).

* * *

><p>Captain Dean Winchester was considering an alternative method of diplomatic conflict resolution.<p>

Diplomats meet airlock. Airlock meets space.

Conflict resolution.

Unfortunately, his first officer frowned on that sort of thing (damn Sammy) and so he was being forced to seek out a less constructive conclusion.

This all began four days ago. Usually the _Impala_ was assigned courier runs and scientific scans, not diplomacy. She was a smaller, older ship (a classic!) without the nice fancy unnecessary amenities for civilians that the newer ships offered.

Unfortunately she was also the only ship in the quadrant and the two warring factions of the planet nearby the planetoid system they happened to scanning decided to beg the Federation for mediation.

The _Impala _got tapped.

This was just further proof that Pike liked to torture him.

The Federation wanted this resolved because the area of land the natives were fighting over happened to be a rather sizable dilithum mine and the natives refused to trade with the Federation without determining who profited from the mine.

Damn Pike.

And now the T'bedi and Charians were glaring daggers at each other (literally, Dean was glad he'd thought to disarm them before throwing them into the conference room), Sam was getting nowhere fast with his reasonable, we-can-work-this-out method and Dean had a pounding headache.

"Sir, incoming transmission," Ash reported from where he was pulling double duty on navigation and communication.

"On screen," Dean grumbled.

"Having fun yet?" Pike asked cheerfully.

Dean bit his tongue hard because he liked being captain and he actually respected Admiral Pike most of the time but really, this was pushing the limits.

"Relax son," the admiral grinned, like he was a mind-reader or something. "I'm sending relief your way. They may not be able to stay but will donate a few personnel who should be able to help." Dean scowled and Pike shrugged. "Sorry Winchester. I can't get a negotiating team there until next week and by then the planet will be at war."

"Understood sir. And the assistance is appreciated." Pike nodded and the transmission cut.

* * *

><p>Eight hours later, Dean was cursing Pike yet again.<p>

"Well would you look at that, it's Captain Winchester!"

His gloating fellow captain and sometime friend would be of no help whatsoever if the evil grin was anything to judge by.

"Kirk, get off your ass and help us!"

"The great Captain Winchester, stymied by half a dozen diplomats. As I live and breathe!"

"Captain." The _Enterprise_'s stoic first officer managed to instil myriad shades of disapproval into one word.

"Oh fine. Spock, you know how to ruin all the fun. Because we're awesome like that, _Enterprise_ is on standby in the sector. Spock and Sam can run scientific scans to their hearts' content. Because I'm even more awesome like that, I'll help you with the diplomats."

"_Thank you._ Winchester out."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk was still chuckling when the transmission ended. Winchester looked positively frazzled and frustrated. His small crew of misfit geniuses was definitely not geared towards diplomacy and as funny as the situation was, Kirk thought Starfleet should have just waited and assigned the _Enterprise,_ saving the _Impala_ the headache.

"Uhura, Spock, you're with me. Sulu, you have the conn. We'll be back in a bit." Uhura looked interested at the idea of studying the two factions' drastically different languages (unusual on a planet that small) and Spock as always fell into step immediately.

"Anything I need to know, Spock?"

"Certainly, Captain. Both the T'bedi and Charians respect visible demonstrations of authority and their civilization approximates Earth's Middle Ages. Their expertise with herbs is not to be underestimated and they are excellent healers."

"Fond of poisons as well, I imagine."

"Indeed. They will view Captain Winchester as subordinate to you because the _Enterprise _is larger."

"Oh that's going to go over well."

"I do not know if there is any way to spare Captain Winchester that particular discomfort, especially if the natives discover you are the flagship's captain."

Kirk winced. Winchester was strong-willed and independent like most captains but he and Kirk both had additional experience kicking, scratching and clawing to keep their unorthodox commands. Winchester was understandably a bit touchy about his status, given how many people had tried to remove him from his beloved ship or diminish its importance.

"I could mention this cultural assumption to Commander Winchester before we make contact with the T'bedi and Charians."

"You are a saint, Spock." The first officer looked puzzled and Kirk grinned. "It's a figure of speech. Talking to Commander Winchester would be great, thanks." He stepped up onto the transporter pad and nodded to Scotty.

"Say hello to Bobby if ye see him, will ye capt'n?" The younger engineer had taken a shine to the _Impala_'s crusty, practical counterpart.

"Will do, Scotty."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

They materialized in a swirl of lights. Commander Sam Winchester was waiting.

"Good morning Captain, Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura."

Kirk grinned. The more formal of the two brothers, Sam Winchester was a brilliant scientist capable of keeping up with both Uhura and Spock, which was no mean feat. He also kept his volatile, impulsive big brother from wildly burning all bridges every time Dean went on a tear. After having Dean Winchester in his sick bay for a mere two hours, Bones swore the younger brother should be canonized.

"Commander Winchester, pleasure as always. I assume the captain's in with the diplomats?"

Sam shrugged and led them up towards the conference room. "Actually, I think he's down talking to Lieutenant Commander Singer. Looking for advice, I believe. We've hit a very large brick wall. Lieutenant Uhura, perhaps you could help us out. There are some subtleties of the language I know I'm missing but can't quite figure out. It has something to do with cultural sub-layers."

Uhura looked even more interested and began pestering the tall officer for more details. With a grin, he held up a hand and passed over a PADD. "I've been recording the proceedings. You can watch and listen first hand. Dean's ready room is empty and you can take that for work space. I also got a copy of both sides' legal codices and their treaty in the original dialects."

For a minute there, Kirk was afraid Spock was going to lose his girlfriend to a well-prepared Winchester.

With Uhura comfortably settled, Sam led them deeper into the bowels of the _Impala_. Definitely not the _Enterprise_, the scratched but clean floors were lined with utilitarian lights, walls a uniform grey. The corridors twisted about the form of the ship more and the crew members seemed just that little bit rougher around the edges. This was a frontier ship. No carpet, no shiny silver. She rarely came into dock, she was always ready to go and the engineering section was a tangled mass of pipes, gauges and warp cores. Kirk was pretty sure that particular accelerant configuration wasn't exactly legal let alone Starfleet standard.

"Fascinating," Spock commented, noting the same component.

"I hear a Vulcan!" Winchester's rough voice shouted from somewhere behind the accelerant.

His spiky head popped up a second later, grease smeared along one cheek. "Hey Kirk, Spock. Got a minute? We're trying to calibrate the – ow!" A calloused hand slapped him upside the head.

"Idjit, you don't drag captains in clean uniforms down to play with the grease monkeys when they're here to fix _your_ problem." With that, the brusque engineer sent his wayward captain out to meet Kirk.

"Bobby! Scotty says hey!" Kirk called into the tangled mess of machinery and a wrench waved acknowledgment.

Winchester was daubed with grease and there was skin scraped from his knuckles but he seemed to be in a far better mood. Sam was caught between relief that his brother no longer seethed like an impending volcano and chagrined at the mess in front of him.

Kirk grinned. "Dude, I'd totally help with calibration but I have it on good authority that my linguistic geek upstairs wants us to play with the natives so that she can watch us make idiots of ourselves."

The prospect of returning to the diplomatic table clearly did not endear itself to Winchester, but Kirk made a point of engaging in light talk on the way up as Winchester tried to clean up without needing a shower.

And a quick peek over his shoulder told Kirk that Spock was letting Sam know that things could get awkward. A short yelp of "What?" had Winchester spinning around to amble backwards and Kirk wincing.

"What's up Sam?"

Sam's mouth flapped like a fish for a minute and then he glanced helplessly at Kirk, who bravely manned up.

"Uhura says that both the T'bedi and Charians are going to turn into dicks once they hear I have a bigger ship than you. Big ship, small ship. Big captain, small captain."

Nothing like bald truth.

Winchester paused. "Are you gonna be a dick about it?"

Kirk sighed, picking his words carefully for once. He liked Dean. They were friends. He didn't want some idiot diplomats to mess that up. "Look, you got into a bar fight for me without even knowing what it was about. You're a damn good captain. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a captain, you're a captain, that's all there is. But we both know that the natives aren't going to see it that way."

Spock tipped his head to one side. "Captain, if I may?"

Kirk gestured expansively.

"I believe if we can convince the natives that Captain Winchester's ship is faster than the _Enterprise_, we may succeed in demonstrating that in advanced technology, size is often not a factor in determining value."

Kirk could have kissed his first officer.

"What he said!"

Winchester chuckled, the stiff expression on his face smoothing out. "Geez Kirk, my ego's not that fragile. I don't care what the natives think as long as you're not going to be an ass."

"I should be insulted," Kirk muttered. "I thought we understood each other after that night in the bar."

Sam laughed, a big round sound before patting the _Enterprise_'s captain on the shoulder. "There, there. Dean's okay with it. Your relationship will survive."

Winchester shuddered. "All right, onward! This is veering far too close to chick flick territory!"

"Amen!" Kirk seconded and the two captains skittered down the hallway in a very dignified fashion.

Sam and Spock were left staring in amused exasperation.

"Chick flick? I am unfamiliar with this expression."

"Don't ask, Spock."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

It was always quiet without the captain around. All sorts of things got done when the captain wasn't on the ship. Systems checks, crew physicals, scientific scans, reports written, cartography charts filled out – life was easier without the _Enterprise_'s trouble magnet aboard.

Boring as all hell, but easier.

This known fact – life without Captain Kirk equals unparalleled monotony – was why Chekov was mildly curious when the communications ensign called him over to catch a transmission from Admiral Cartwright. To no small terror, he realized the admiral wanted to speak to the man in charge.

Teenager, in this case.

"Ser," Chekov greeted respectfully.

"Where is Captain Kirk?" the admiral demanded shortly.

"Ser, he is aboard de _Impala _vith Commander Spock, attempting to resolve de diplomatic conflict betveen de T'bedi and de Charians." Chekov was doing his best to not freak out over the idea of a teenaged ensign talking to an Admiral as the commander of the fleet's flagship.

Admirals never called when Sulu had the conn!

"Please communicate to Captains Kirk and Winchester" the two names puckered the admiral's lips in distaste "that a negotiations team of two will be arriving within a day via the _Potemkin_. All diplomatic efforts are to cease until then. Cartwright out."

Chekov managed to nod before the transmission cut and immediately had a small meltdown. He did not want to tell the captain that a team of Starfleet negotiators (negotiators being synonymous with useless) were going to invade either the _Impala _or the _Enterprise_. Chekov never liked carrying bad news, even if it wasn't of his own making.

He'd tell Commander Spock instead.

That was a better idea.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Sam paused as Spock's communicator chirped and he held a short conversation before flipping the device shut.

"Problems?" Sam asked politely.

"Admiral Cartwright has seen fit to assign a team of negotiators to this problem."

Only Sam's rigid sense of discipline kept him from slumping and groaning. "I don't suppose we're considered superfluous now?" he asked hopefully, feeling just a little bad at dumping the diplomatic issue onto the _Enterprise._

Not that bad though. She was a bigger ship, built for this sort of thing.

"No," Spock mused. "I do not believe transferring negotiations to the_ Enterprise _would be wise. It could inflate the natives' opinions of themselves and make them more obdurate."

Damn. Of course.

"But naturally, the captains' presences will no longer be required constantly," Spock stated and Sam appreciated the small gesture.

That still didn't fix the problem. Civilian negotiators would gripe over the _Impala_'s bad coffee, sparse accommodations, ad nauseam. They would demand to be housed aboard the _Enterprise_, which tied up two ships unnecessarily. And this wasn't Admiral Pike anymore, so they couldn't finish up the negotiations and smile widely with an "Oops, would ya look at that!" when the negotiators arrived, shipping the annoyances directly back to Starfleet Command.

"This is not a pleasant situation," Spock commented, hoping to facilitate discussion.

"No," Sam muttered. "We need the captains for this problem."

Predictably, neither captain was impressed.

"The hell, Cartwright? Of course he gives the orders to the _Enterprise _and an ensign at that! Either one of us would have kicked up a huge stink!" Kirk fumed in the ready room as an out of the way Uhura muttered to herself over the PADD, a pair of headphones in.

They had just hashed out a workable plan regarding transportation between the two ships when the door chimed.

"Come!" Winchester called.

Stoic Lieutenant Castiel entered, looking grave. "Sir, one of the T'bedi representatives is dead. Security is on scene and Dr. Harvelle is initiating an autopsy."

Kirk closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while Winchester sipped from his mug in a very controlled fashion before carefully elucidating a simple "Son of a bitch."

Then the red alert klaxons began to whoop. "Biohazard in the ventilation systems," broadcast over the intercom. "Initiating ship-wide lockdown."

Sam hit the door at a dead run, heading for the science station, closely followed by Winchester and Kirk. "What the hell is going on in my ship?" Winchester demanded of Commander Ash, who shrugged.

"Hell if I know sir. All I can tell you is that someone on this ship just used a very simple, very effective method of distributing poison through the ventilation shafts. I shut down the fans and locked out the vents but without circulation, we're going to run out of air real quick."

"Ellen, please tell me you have an antidote for whatever this is?" Winchester snapped over the comm.

"Damn it, no!" a gruff female voice retorted. "I just got my hands on a sample! All I can tell you is that it's going to kill everyone on this ship within the next five minutes and I definitely won't have the beginnings of an antidote by then!"

Kirk was already having a rapid-fire conversation over his communicator. "Winchester. We can pull everyone over to the _Enterprise_, beam the diplomats to the surface and then flush the _Impala_."

"Acknowledged. All crew, prepare for emergency transport to the _Enterprise!_"

"Scotty, I do _not_ want any of those diplomats to sneak aboard my ship, understand?"

"Aye, capt'n! Stand by for mass transport!"

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

The hold was a very large, cavernous place that Captain Kirk did not often visit. "Shit Kirk, you expecting to pack a planet in here?" Winchester grumbled as his people milled about.

"Constitution class ship. Nothing like your little speedster," Kirk rejoined with a smirk, heading for the doors. The command officers fell into step. "Can I put your people to work?" Kirk asked. Winchester nodded and began barking orders.

"Report to your corresponding stations and make yourselves useful aboard the _Enterprise!_ Ash, Harvelle, Sam with me!"

The core crews of both ships met in the largest conference room the _Enterprise _had. McCoy and Harvelle were already postulating vaccination theories, the science officers busy arguing dispersal methods with the engineers, but Uhura had the most information to offer.

"Captain, if I could address the room?" she asked. Kirk nodded, sinking into his chair.

"Attention!" Everyone's head swiveled to the front of the room. "Thank you." Uhura tapped her PADD patiently, waiting for everyone to sit. "Upon examination of the provided T'bedi and Charian treaty, I discovered a rather interesting clause. It states that when representatives are in neutral territory and negotiations have stalled, both sides have the right to engage in combat within said neutral territory, but only those six people from the quarreling factions will engage. Whoever wins claims the right to dictate terms of agreement. Unfortunately, whoever is hosting this negotiation becomes victim to their conflict."

Sam frowned. "How did I miss that?"

Uhura waved the PADD. "You didn't. But the verb conjecture is a little tricky and I think you came up with an alternative translation – " Kirk held up a hand.

"It was something only a specialized linguist would have caught."

"Actually sir, the truth is the only reason I caught it was because Commander Winchester had already gone through it and noted the anomalies. He laid the map, I just followed it. I'm sure you would have arrived at the correct conclusion."

Sam shrugged, not slighted in the least. "Science officer, not linguist."

Winchester leaned forward. "So what this means is that our friendly natives are well within their rights to try and kill each other off while they're onboard my ship?"

"I'm afraid so, sir. And the weapon of choice is a broad-spectrum poison," Uhura finished sympathetically

Winchester cursed, thumping a fist down on the table. "Never again. Next time Pike wants a diplomat, I am _so_ recommending you lot. It's in _your_ freaking job description, not mine!"

Dr. Harvelle caught the _Impala_ captain's attention. "We think we have an antidote for this specific poison. And the science departments report that the _Impala_'s atmosphere should be clean in about four hours."

"Great, so that'll work – "

"Until we beam them up again and they use a new poison," McCoy growled. "Then we'll be back at square one." He hated poisons. Sneaky, subtle and deadly, too much like his ex-wife's perfume.

"There's nothing else we can do until the negotiators arrive with the _Potemkin_ tomorrow," Kirk concluded on that cheerful note. "We'll adjourn here. Come on Dean, I don't know about you but I could use a drink."

* * *

><p>The captains did just that – sat themselves in the <em>Enterprise<em>'s recreational room and commiserated over beers.

Singer drifted down to Engineering, where young engineering ensigns from both ships were snared into the time-honoured tradition of improving the legendary Engineering moonshine still.

Sick bay was avoided like the plague as two overworked, acerbic CMOs furiously sped through poisons, antidotes and other remedies just in case. It was a wise decision given their respective captains' penchant for worst case scenarios.

Sam, Spock and Uhura did their level best to puzzle out more planetary customs and when it became apparent that all three were suffering from varying degrees of circular thinking, were rescued by Ash, Sulu, Chekov and a reluctant Castiel.

Apparently Spock had never experienced karaoke.

Everyone else had fun.

The Vulcan still seemed a little shell-shocked the next morning.

* * *

><p>The next morning, both captains found themselves in the transporter room. "How did our first officers skate out of this again?" Winchester grumbled.<p>

"They're slippery bastards, that's what," Kirk rolled stiff shoulders. Negotiators always gave him a headache. "And the admiral didn't tell us who was coming. That's a bad sign."

Winchester scowled. "How many negotiators have you pissed off to date?"

Kirk chose not to answer that question as the _Potemkin_'s engineer confirmed transport.

"Aw _hell_," Kirk hissed under his breath.

Two men – one tall and doleful, the other short and dumpy – downright glared at Kirk. "Captain," the tall one sniffed in a nasally voice.

"Dr. Adams," Kirk rejoined politely. "And Dr. Neus. Welcome back to the _Enterprise_." Winchester found himself under a very thorough visual scan and bristled.

"And this must be Captain Winchester," Dr. Adams added, acting as if there was a bad smell in the room. "Well, please direct us towards the involved parties."

"They're not aboard either ship, Dr. Adams," Kirk stated, his voice measured and calm. "The Charian representatives chose to murder at T'bedi diplomat last night and then they flooded the _Impala_ with poison. I decided it was better to return the representatives to the surface of the planet to avoid endangering any more Starfleet lives."

Both negotiators drew themselves up stiffly. "What do you mean, poison? Kirk, what did you do to provoke them?" Dr. Neus demanded for the first time in a slippery basso. Kirk deliberately did not react to the inflammatory comment.

"According to a small clause in their already established treaty, they are allowed to instigate hostilities whenever they feel negotiations have stalled. They neglected to inform us of said clause's existence. The crew of the _Impala_ lacks a linguist and therefore cannot be expected to comprehend the entirety of the text. The _Enterprise_ had just arrived on scene when the attack occurred."

He finished his report and waited. Winchester was still as stone beside him.

Dr. Neus sighed, rubbing his forehead. "And why, exactly, does the _Impala _lack a linguist?"

"We're a research and courier vessel, not a diplomacy parade, which is what I _told_ the Admiralty when they assigned us this mission. I stated we were not fully equipped for the job. It's on record and I was given my orders under protest." Winchester's voice watched Kirk's for smooth professionalism.

"Huh," was Adams' only response. "Well, to the conference room then. We'll need what little materials you have. Then I'll expect a security team standing by to take us to the surface. Of course, despite the poison, I cannot allow any of the team to be wearing masks – that could be construed as a threat to the planet's inhabitants. Follow our orders and we'll have this finished up in no time so you can be on your way to whatever it was you were doing before."

"Ensign, please escort these gentlemen to Lieutenant Uhura," Kirk requested and inhaled deeply as the negotiators swept out of the transporter room.

When they were fully gone, he let the breath out in a controlled fashion. "They seem like jackasses," Winchester remarked conversationally.

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet."

"What are you going to do about the masks?"

"You think I'm wasting my security officers on a race of people that has no qualms about poisoning over two hundred people? The good doctors can go down alone if they hate the masks that much. If you'll excuse me, I have to visit Bones. Scotty said you're transferring back over to the _Impala_ in ten minutes?"

"Yep."

"Good luck. Don't beam anyone up that I wouldn't."

"Damn straight. The last time my ship contacted yours, shit hit the fan spectacularly."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you!"

* * *

><p>The <em>Enterprise<em>'s sick bay was a quiet place after the morning rush of small maladies, allergies and bumps. McCoy was just sitting back with his reports and a cup of coffee when Kirk barged in.

"Bones, they're back."

"Good morning to you too gorgeous," the CMO said dryly.

"Bones, the evil negotiators from hell are back."

"What, the doctor pair?"

"Yes!"

McCoy set his cup of coffee down with a disgusted thump. The evil doctor negotiators from hell were part of the _Enterprise_'s third diplomatic mission and they had wanted to turn Chekov over to human-eating planetary natives because the poor kid had said "vould" instead of "would" and pissed off the natives' high council.

The doctors didn't want a failed negotiation on their record, never minding the fact that the Federation refused to deal with planets that ate sentient beings. Kirk told them where they could stick their perfect record in excruciating detail.

Needless to say, the doctors didn't like the _Enterprise _much. Especially after Kirk had "accidentally" sent a "primary draft" of a message down to the planet in the native language (which Kirk didn't speak, so he'd enlisted Uhura), telling the inhabitants exactly what he thought and what they _weren't_ getting from the _Enterprise_. Ever.

First official reprimand of his command career and Kirk didn't give a damn. He had actually printed, framed and hung it on the mess wall as a joke.

McCoy hoped the whole reprimand bit didn't become a habit.

Either way, keeping Kirk from spouting off to the evil doctors was going to be difficult.

"Bones, this sucks," and McCoy was jerked from his thoughts back to the captain, who was now flopped on a clean biobed, hands behind his head.

"What do you want me to say? Go complain to your bosom buddy if you want sympathy."

"Who said I wanted sympathy? Winchester's got his own problems. I actually wanted to know if you had a neurotoxin…" the voice trailed off hopefully.

"If I did, I wouldn't tell you, infant."

"Oh come on."

"No."

"So you do?"

"I said if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"So yes."

"No."

"Bones, you're telling me you don't have any neurotoxins?"

"No."

"No _what_?" Impatient legs wiggled at the end of the bed in frustration.

McCoy swallowed a snicker and signed off on another report. "Why are you down here again?"

"Sulu has the conn and I'd go hang out with Uhura, see if I could help but she has Spock and the negotiators with her. I'll just say something stupid."

"And this is new how?"

"You wound me Bones! Seriously, do you think you're up on the planet's herbs?"

McCoy sighed and put down his stylus, hearing the switch from 'Jim' to 'Captain.' "As much as I can be, Jim. It's a whole planet and there are endless combinations. But yes, I'm confident that I've covered most of the major poison groups and I have the computer working on combinations, symptoms, etc."

"Good. Any neurotoxins in that mix? Then we can blame the negotiators' assassination on the T'bedi or something."

"No, Jim. No neurotoxins."

"Damn."

* * *

><p>Sam shoved his PADD back across the table and slurped at the industrial sized mug of coffee. Nine in the morning and he was on his second cup already. At least the <em>Enterprise <em>mess served a very decent Arabica drip.

The door swished open and a young ensign managed to announce "The negotiators, sirs," before two newcomers stormed into the conference room.

"Dr. Adams, Dr. Neus," Spock greeted and if Sam wasn't mistaken, there was frigid steel in the _Enterprise_ officer's voice.

Sam hauled himself to his feet in a customary gesture of respect and glanced over to see dark sparks snapping from Uhura's eyes, her long painted nails tapping the table in agitation.

Sam made a note to self: _Enterprise_ does not like Dr. Adams and Dr. Neus. Probably for a very good reason.

"This is Commander Sam Winchester, first and science officer of the _Impala_," Spock continued frostily and Sam nodded cautiously. The doctors eyed him like a piece of rotten meat.

"Ah, the one appointed first officer by his idiot brother." Disdain dripped off Neus' words, the scorn splattering messily all over the room's atmosphere.

Sam's spine straightened and he scowled.

* * *

><p>Uhura was taken aback. Commander Sam Winchester was one of the gentlest people she knew. He was tall and a little intimidating on first appearance certainly, but anyone who spent time with him knew he always had a smile for the clumsiest ensign, a longsuffering sigh for his brother, a vivacious love of knowledge, willing to help whoever needed it, never any sign of a temper.<p>

Right now there was a different man in front of her, one whose expression could have put a dent in the titanium floor with ease. Uhura was suddenly reminded that Sam had almost single-handedly escaped from a Romulan prison planet and could lift skinny Dr. Adams by the neck with one hand without significant exertion.

She was pleased to note that Dr. Adams swallowed nervously as Commander Winchester, Starfleet officer, straightened to his full imposing height. "My apologies, Dr. Adams, but you are mistaken. I was appointed this post by the Admiralty of Starfleet. I am in no way related to those august individuals, although I am sure they would be gratified to know you consider them idiots."

There was an awkward pause until Spock abruptly handed the doctors PADDS containing the past few days' research. "Do you require our assistance to comprehend this knowledge?" Spock asked with the faintest hint of fine disdain.

Both men gathered themselves huffily and dismissed the three officers.

"Thank _goodness_," Uhura sighed as the door swished shut.

"What did they do?" Sam asked, still frowning.

"They attempted to turn Ensign Chekov over to a planet of humanoid-consuming natives," Spock replied coolly, marching down the corridor at a swift rate. Uhura practically jogged to keep up with the two long-legged men as Spock related the incident.

"Bastards," Sam finally spat as Spock finished and neither _Enterprise _officer disagreed with him.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Sam arrived back on the _Impala_ in a towering bad mood, sending ensigns and lieutenants skipping out of his way with alacrity. Sinking into his freshly decontaminated chair, he punched several buttons on the console, bringing the computer up to date and logging new information.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, Sammy?" Dean asked from where he was lovingly reacquainting himself with his command chair.

Sam gave him an abbreviated version of the cannibal story. That in turn put the whole bridge crew in a foul temper – everyone saw the _Enterprise_ officers as kindred spirits.

Thus when Kirk hailed the _Impala _informing Winchester that the doctors wanted to use the newly cleaned ship as a meeting ground for negotiations, there was a very awkward pause in which various members of the _Impala_ crew probably contemplated murder in the first degree.

Kirk waited patiently, certain that Sam had shared the details of Chekov's little incident. "Kirk, we'll get back to the doctors on that one. Give us twenty minutes," Dean finally replied and the _Enterprise_ captain nodded, cutting transmission.

"All right, campfire," Dean said, spinning his finger in a small circle. Everyone either turned their chairs around or gathered close to the piloting/navigation console.

"Options, people," Dean began, clapping his hands together.

"Technically," Sam began, "you are within your right as captain to refuse to allow an imminent threat aboard the _Impala_. The T'bedi and Charians have demonstrated that they are a very real and lethal threat."

"But," Ash drawled, "that leaves the _Enterprise _at risk and even if we didn't like 'em all (an' we do), that's an awful lot of people to expose to potentially deadly poison."

Castiel half-raised a hand, almost self-conscious. "Perhaps we could suggest a neutral position on the planet? Or an _Enterprise _shuttle as grounds for negotiation?"

"Yeah, lock 'em in the shuttle. They can either negotiate or kill themselves there, I don't give a damn," Ash muttered darkly.

Sam shook his head. "Letting them all die won't work. If one of the representatives doesn't come back, the whole planet goes to war. But the shuttle might, especially if it was the _Impala_'s."

"In short," Dean concluded, "we don't want them on our ship."

There was a general consensus of "Hell no."

"All right-y then. Back to stations. Hail the _Enterprise._"

Kirk's bridge snapped into view. "Decided?" Kirk asked neutrally.

Dean shrugged. "I assume the doctors aren't present."

"You'd be correct."

"Well then. Kirk, I just got my ship back and we can't afford to empty out a Miranda-class science vessel because six children want to play gas-each-other-to-death-off-planet. We've got a schedule to stick to and a courier mission in three days, so if you'd bring the doctors up, I'll tell them that myself. That being said, I don't wanna screw over the _Enterprise _if I can help it."

Kirk nodded. "I get it, man. I've already told the doctors there's no way I'm beaming hostiles up onto my ship. I've volunteered a shuttle or neutral ground."

"Sir," Uhura interrupted smoothly. "I'm receiving a transmission from Admiral Cartwright requesting both you and Captain Winchester."

Sam nodded confirmation. "On screen," Dean ordered wearily.

The pinched face of the Admiral came into focus, glaring at both captains with equal ire.

Captain James T. Kirk decided he'd had enough.

"Sir, permission to speak freely?" It was phrased just right, the intonation just barely a challenge, framed in respect.

Cartwright settled back in his chair, thinking. Slowly, he nodded.

"This mission, sir, has been mismanaged from the get-go. Assigning a courier vessel without the proper ethnical resources to comprehend natives who were promised Starfleet assistance was irresponsible and has led to the death of one representative.

Furthermore, you know the previous circumstances under which I worked with the Doctors Adams and Neus. They have, in conversation with both _Enterprise _and _Impala_ officers, demonstrated the same tunnel vision that led to the unfortunate occurrences of our last mission. I request permission to free the _Impala_ to continue her duties, return the doctors to the closest Starbase and trust the _Enterprise _to do her job. Sir."

Both crews held their breaths.

"The doctors have assured me they can resolve this peacefully," Cartwright stated relatively calmly, which was either really good or really bad.

"Then I will fully stock a shuttle and leave them here. They don't respect me, they don't respect my people and they have been nothing but rude and unprofessional to the officers of the _Impala_."

Dean had to fight to keep a smile off his face. Damn, he knew Kirk was a loose cannon but dressing down an Admiral in front of two starship crews? This was going to come back to bite Kirk in the ass.

May as well join the party.

"Sir," Dean began carefully, "these same doctors have made it very clear to everyone they came into contact with that the presence of two Starfleet ships is unnecessary. They are the experts in this instance and we are window dressing. Therefore sir, it is logical to allow us to continue on. There is no immediate threat from illegal traders, Romulans or Klingons this far into Federation Space. When the doctors finish their jobs in a prudent manner, it would be the matter of hours for a transport on a shipping route to deviate, pick them up and return to business."

"Awfully young to be telling me how to do my job, aren't you?" Cartwright asked.

"Sir, we're not telling you how to do your job," Dean said baldly. "We're asking you to let us do ours."

Cartwright actually looked thoughtful.

Kirk hoped there was a person somewhere inside the shrivelled old killjoy.

"The negotiators have twenty four hours during which time you will provide a shuttle for negotiations and every hospitality. Both ships will remain on standby in the area. If the negotiators have not achieved progress in twenty four hours, _Enterprise_ will take over and the _Impala_ will be free to continue on her route.

If however, they have achieved progress, you will continue to fulfil their requests, up to and including both ships remaining in the system. Is that understood?"

It was more than Kirk had expected. Winchester looked like he wanted to say something but Kirk said yes sir and thank you sir and cut the transmission.

"Care to explain, Kirk?" Dean drawled.

"Yeah. Push him on _anything_ and he pulls the rug out from under you. I'll take a short leash over a hand on the collar any day. Trust me man. Last time I asked for an extra two days to get to a star base, he cut his original offer in half. Scotty still hasn't forgiven him for the strain on the engines."

Dean winced in sympathy.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

The doctors were unimpressed by the ultimatum but Kirk wasn't budging and assigned Spock to help the doctors expedite the negotiation process. He wasn't sure he could trust anyone else with the irascible men (actually, he wasn't all that certain about Spock either but if Spock decided to commit murder, they'd never find the evidence which was an acceptable solution).

The shuttle was piloted out to geosynchronous orbit, the natives beamed up and then the two ships waited.

Spock and Sam took the opportunity to team up on a complicated subspace scan, babbling in jargon Kirk only vaguely recognized as Standard. Kirk and Winchester started up a game of I Spy with strange new rules over the open communication channel between the two ships. Everyone else rolled their eyes and tried to do their work.

And then the little shuttle exploded.

"Spock?" Kirk asked curiously.

Both science officers had dropped their fascinating discussion and were busily tapping away.

"Sir, judging from residual debris, there was a crude explosive aboard the shuttle."

"Survivors?" Kirk asked.

"No sir."

Sighing, Kirk turned to Uhura. "This is not going to end well. Open a channel to Admiral Cartwright."


	2. In Which Things Go Pear Shaped

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p>After that, things went very pear-shaped. Cartwright threw a fit, Starfleet Command ordered both ships on stand-by, the planet below went to war, there was an inquiry launched into the conduct of everyone involved from both captains down to the <em>Enterprise<em>'s housekeeping staff and both ships were dragged back to Earth on indefinite hiatus.

Kirk kicked his bunk idly from his favourite armchair some three days after the shuttle incident. Sprawled all over the aforementioned bunk, Winchester scowled at the ceiling. "Something about this feels fishy," he grumbled and Kirk snorted.

"You think? We're tied up here. A paranoid individual would think that freed up space we should be occupying at present. Nefarious things could be happening in said space and all because the _Enterprise_ isn't there to look scary."

"Hey, have you heard from Pike today?"

Kirk shifted in his comfortable chair. "No, and that's starting to feel a little strange. He's usually punctual. Something is shaking down in Starfleet Dean and I get the distinct feeling we're two steps behind."

Winchester grunted and propped his head up on one elbow. "Remember the Romulan powwow we found ourselves in with the nebula? Starfleet never did have a good answer for why that intelligence was overlooked."

Kirk kicked his bunk again. "You think it's connected."

Winchester shrugged.

"You think there's a mole in Starfleet. Dude, you have any idea how hard it would be for a Romulan mole to get into Starfleet? Romulans are kind of distinctive."

"Yeah, I know I sound crazy," Winchester sighed.

Idly flicking on the news, Kirk flipped through several channels before pausing on one. "Hey, isn't that Pike's office?"

Both captains sat bolt upright and the volume zipped up.

"_Authorities are not commenting at this time, but an explosive attack was launched at Starfleet Command not five minutes ago. There appear to be several dead and more injured, Tammi, but Starfleet is keeping tight control of the situation. Back to you."_

The commentary was accompanied by a jerky, civilian vid of a massive fireball suddenly erupting from the stately outlying Starfleet Command building.

"That's it. Screw regulations," Kirk declared. "Let's clear this whole thing up. Computer, summon Spock, McCoy and the rest of the gang to my quarters. Include the _Impala_'s bridge crew."

Winchester was examining the frozen footage. "Jim, that's the same kind of explosive that blew up the negotiators' shuttle."

Kirk mulled that information over as he coaxed the _Enterprise_'s computer into believing a glitch had popped up and all recording devices needed to be turned off. Then he flipped open the back of his communicator, pulled out a small set of tools and messed with the guts of the little device.

"Jammer?" Winchester asked and Kirk smirked.

Five minutes later, seven _Enterprise_ officers and her _Impala_ counterparts flooded the captain's small personal quarters. Chekov, Castiel and Sam parked themselves on the floor, Sulu, Jo and Ash crammed themselves onto Kirk's bunk, and the engineers claimed Kirk's small bench-couch while Spock and the doctors chose to stand.

All eyes were on the captains, who wordlessly played the news footage.

When it ended, silence filled the room.

"Conspiracy, dude," Ash muttered. "Haven't had to handle one of those yet. Looks like we're due."

"First up – locating Admiral Pike. Who has planet-side clearance? I'm grounded to either _Enterprise _or Starfleet Command. Winchester's in the same boat." Kirk looked around.

Uhura and Jo were the only people to raise their hand. "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted that Starfleet thinks so little of me," Jo grumbled. "Should we go see what we can find out?"

"We _are_ among the more discreet members of this group," Uhura agreed wryly with a smile. "We should leave now so if anyone asks, we don't know anything." She nodded to everyone in the room and discreetly squeezed Spock's hand before slipping out the door after Jo.

"All right," Winchester barked. "We need more information. And from now on, we're paranoid. The only people we trust are on our bridge crews. Anyone wants out, say so now." Everyone snorted in disdain, shook their heads no or raised accusatory eyebrows. Winchester grinned. "I had to ask. Ash, I think it's time you returned to your nefarious hacker roots."

"I can be of assistance as vell," Chekov piped up. Ash was prepared to look skeptical until Chekov scribbled something on his PADD and passed it over.

There was a pause.

"WHAT?" Ash blurted and Chekov looked…smug.

"Vell?"

Ash seemed to be having difficulty wrapping his head around whatever information Chekov had shared but nodded. "Sir, I could definitely make use of this kid if he's who he says he is."

"I am!"

Kirk chuckled. "He is, Ash. I was curious after that little Romulan prison escapade and looked into it a bit." Chekov shot a dismayed glance at his captain, who shrugged. "Come on, you had to know I'd be nosy, Pavel."

Now the Russian looked border-line mutinous and just a wee bit sulky. Ash grinned and snagged Chekov's shirt. "You and me, whiz kid. Let's go crack Starfleet wide open and remind 'em why it's a bad idea to think free spirits will ever be tied down in the trappings of a capitalist paramilitary regime!" Dragging a reluctant _Enterprise_ navigator behind him, Ash made their escape as the captains turned to more scientific matters.

"The explosions," Kirk began. "We need to know everything there is to know about what happened and why the enemy chose this particular compound. Your initial scans stated it was a rather crude explosive, right Spock?"

"Correct, Captain. Commander Winchester's findings concur. If you have no objections, Commander Winchester and I will continue to investigate the explosions."

"Do it."

The first officers nodded but didn't leave the room. They needed to know everything.

"Bobby, you and Scotty sift through the scuttlebutt, see what's floating around Command and make sure our ships are ready for anything up to and including the apocalypse."

"Got it," Bobby drawled.

Scotty grinned. "Capt'n, permission tae tinker wi' the shield generators? If we're going tae walk the fine line of the law, Ah think we won't be seeing any Starfleet inspectors." Kirk nodded shortly.

"Any and all odd improvements. I want an edge that our enemies won't know about."

"That goes for _Impala_ too."

The engineers grinned. Free rein and all they had to do was be sneaky about it. "Sulu, I want you and Castiel as our lookouts, working from the _Enterprise_. Feel free to bug appropriate offices, bribe news networks, whatever it takes, but I want to know what we're facing and I want to know yesterday."

"Aye, captain." Sulu was relieved. He had been afraid he'd be relegated to security detail or something – he wasn't a hacker, botanists weren't exactly spy material and the _Enterprise_ wasn't going anywhere yet. Castiel looked happier as well and Sulu imagined he was thinking the same thing as Sulu.

"Doctors, I think you're on stand by. Feel free to help in whatever capacity you can." Winchester mused. "Kirk and I will go shake down the Admirals and see what the climate is like. Did we miss anything?"

No one had anything to add. "Be _careful_," Kirk stressed. "We can't afford to be caught and we're all pretty recognizable around Starfleet. This can't end badly. Our first priority is securing Admiral Pike with an endgame of finding out what the hell is going on. Dismissed."

* * *

><p><em>Uhura and Jo<em>

Jo glanced sideways at the glamorous communications officer beside her as they walked down sunny San Francisco streets, heading towards the smoking building. Jo was still new to the _Impala_ and hadn't gotten close to the _Enterprise_ officers yet, but Uhura was a legend around the Academy campus. Beautiful, brilliant and with a notorious independent streak, she had managed to wrangle a 98% average from the toughest Academy instructors. On top of that, Uhura was a genuinely nice person.

Jo's own accelerated program diploma paled in comparison. She was just a little star-struck, but snapped out of it when they approached the yellow crime scene tape. "Can't let you ladies pass," the security officer stated firmly, checking out both women with appreciative eyes.

Jo raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who we are and why we're here?" she demanded as Uhura fished out her communicator. The security officer looked baffled and Jo rolled her eyes. "Lieutenant-Commander, would you please tell Admiral Cartwright we've got a problem?"

The _Enterprise_ officer nodded, murmuring into the communicator. The security guard looked taken aback and flustered. "Well, I don't know," he began as Jo started pulling out her ID, making sure she flashed it quickly enough that he didn't catch her name.

"Yes sir. The commander told him that. Yes sir. No sir. Of course sir. I can put him on." Uhura's voice had jumped in volume, crisp and official. The security guard was really wobbling now, his head swivelling from the on-scene command truck to the two important-looking ladies.

"That won't be necessary," he finally blurted and raised the tape. "Please, I was only trying to do my job."

Uhura turned back towards the guard and broke off her conversation with a "That won't be necessary, sir. We're getting through now."

The guard heaved a huge sigh of relief and Jo patronizingly patted his shoulder as she stepped past. "We get that you're trying to protect a crime scene, officer. We're glad to see such dedication, even if it's a little misguided."

Uhura gave him a beautifully blinding smile and the two girls were in, stepping across debris.

"We are good," Jo muttered and Uhura laughed under her breath.

"We are very good."

* * *

><p>They sobered as upon approaching the building. "Damn," Jo whistled. The bomb had been overkill, too big for just Admiral Pike's office. She circled the blast radius, eyeing the evidence critically.<p>

Uhura was sweet-talking yet another minion into letting her see the casualty list. To her relief, Admiral Pike wasn't on it. Flipping open her communicator, she asked Sulu if Pike had been found yet.

Jo was actually in the building by the time Uhura caught up. "Sulu says that Pike and his secretary are missing. Command's panicking over it and busy claiming this was an act of terror."

Fingering a singed wall thoughtfully, Jo shook her head. "I don't think this was an act of terror. Those bombs usually contain some sort of projectile to kill or maim and they're planted differently." Uhura watched as the young security chief crouched down to examine another piece of evidence.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this bomb was supposedly low-tech, right? For all that, it was very well placed and destroyed," Jo grunted and shoved a sooty sheet of drywall out of her way, fingering melted plastic and metal, "all the servers in Pike's command post. Server location is classified beyond classified. I imagine even the captains could only hazard a guess at server location. So how exactly did those 'terrorists' have the intelligence to plant a bomb so surgically?"

Uhura was impressed. It was a good question. "Additionally," Jo continued, poking around another corner with a mostly intact piece of trim, "I think Admiral Pike was taken out of here at phaser-point."

Uhura was very impressed. "How the hell do you know that?"

Jo grinned. "They assumed that a bomb would eradicate everything. They were wrong. There are phaser scars on the wall and we'll know for sure when I find what I'm looking for." She kicked over Pike's desk, which was charred and twisted almost beyond recognition. "Every admiral has quirks. Dean said that one of Pike's was that he didn't like having automated security in his office. Claimed he didn't like Big Brother watching all the time. Starfleet Command obliged him, but Pike's not stupid either."

Jo yanked at the least damaged desk leg, which snapped off with relative ease. "He had various parts of his office modified to contain security protocols, including his desk." She fished around in the hollow leg and came up with an intact recorder, grinning cheekily.

"And how do you know all this?" Uhura demanded. Jo suddenly looked like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Uh…"

Uhura laughed and took the recorder, checking it over. "You know what, I don't want to know as long as you keep your nose out of my journal. This recording will still play."

"Not now," Jo said quietly and immediately scanned a copy to both officers' communicators just in case. "Let's go before someone realizes we're here."

* * *

><p><em>Ash and Chekov<em>

Chekov stared in dismay at his surroundings. "Commander Ash, I do not tink dis a good idea." Ash spun around to tug his companion along, who looked a lot like a fawn in a den of wolves.

"You've never been into a place like this?" Chekov shook his head no emphatically and Ash gaped. "You hacked Starfleet Command with a standard issue Wal-Mart laptop?" he asked incredulously and Chekov nodded sheepishly.

"Vell, I did buy a top of de line model but yes. I did not vish to bring trouble on my muzzer's head."

"And hacking Starfleet Command didn't count as trouble?"

"I vasn't going to get caught. Ve weren't _in_ trouble until Mikael tried to hack de intelligence reports. I told him for dat ve needed another night of planning but he disagreed. Dat vas vhen ve got into trouble. He should have listened."

Ash snorted a laugh. The kid had balls, he'd give Chekov that. "Come on. You can do so much more with the less-legal stuff and this way our girls won't be in trouble if we get busted._ Enterprise_ and _Impala_ can stay squeaky clean."

"Ve von't get busted, but I see your point." Chekov tried to muster up a tough face and Ash rolled his eyes. Telling the Russian he wasn't mean enough to look scary would just be cruel.

They were in the darker side of town, Ash looking for a particular vendor. Ducking into a dingy shop, he strolled past the counter and into the back break room. "Pat! Your fat ass still alive?"

Chekov blinked in surprise as a very large, possibly Asian man covered in tattoos snorted, jerking awake from his nap on a sagging, dirty couch. "Ash? Ash, it's been years, you crazy dumb hick. Whaddaya want? And who's the fresh meat?"

Ash flopped down in the chair across from the couch, casually propping his feet up on a crate. "I need the works."

Pat looked surprised. "Ash needs the works? I don't want to know what you're up to then. And I don't want to know who the meat is. That way if you fuck up, I can honestly say I just sold you the hardware."

"Excellent." Ash handed over a very large stack of credits.

The money disappeared in an instant but Pat still looked wary. "You're paying me up front without haggling and you want my best stuff. Ash, what the hell?"

Ash grinned. "I'm legal now, doncha know. Starfleet officer and everything."

Pat heaved himself to his feet, slapped a palm to a reader panel and pulled open a cleverly hidden safe door. Slamming a crate down in front of the _Impala_'s navigational officer, he gestured to the door. "Get out. Starfleet officer? You're hacking serious shit then and I don't need any more heat."

Ash popped the top off the crate and glanced inside. A wide grin spread all over his face. "You're a gentleman Pat, I don't care what they say. Pleasure doing business with you."

"Out, both of you."

They were back on the street in an instant, Ash tucking his crate under one arm. Chekov trailed after a very happy Ash, feeling lost. "Now then," Ash muttered. "Where do we set up?"

Perking up, Chekov finally felt like he could contribute. "I tink I hev a place. Secure, data capabilities, wery easy to lose a potential tail on de way."

"Lead on, my man."

* * *

><p><em>Sulu, Castiel, McCoy and Dr. Harvelle<em>

"I'm feeling distinctly undervalued," Ellen grumbled. McCoy glanced over at the _Impala_'s CMO from his slouched position in Kirk's command chair on the bridge.

"Join the club," Sulu muttered from his seat at the piloting console, doing his research on a PADD provided by Chekov, who had solemnly instructed him not to mess with the code or settings and reminded Sulu like a small child to not use the ship for this quasi-legal research. The _Enterprise _never forgot, Chekov said mournfully but proudly.

Castiel on the other hand, was using the communications station to monitor all news and judging from the frustrated look on his face, there wasn't anything new on.

"I hate the hurry up and wait game," Ellen continued to grumble, trying to distract herself with a PADD. "Should have gone with Bobby."

"Then you'd be covered in grease and listening to engineers talk shop. Just wait. Everything will go to hell in a few hours and then we'll have to fix it," McCoy said with rare patience. He himself had been resigned to this part of the operation from the beginning.

Castiel punched a button irritably.

Clearly he and Ellen shared the same opinion.

* * *

><p><em>The Winchesters, Spock and Kirk<em>

"Well, if this isn't just jim-jam dandy," Dean growled, staring at the blank red doors. "The Admiralty is currently unavailable. Please wait," he minced in poor imitation of the uptight secretary out front. "Bet they're all running around inside like beheaded chickens, freaking out over the fact they have an Admiral missing."

Kirk grunted in agreement, both captains pacing as their first officers stood by silently.

They waited for another half an hour before the doors hissed open and grim-faced Admirals stalked out. "Captains, enter," Admiral Chandra called from inside.

The admiral was usually smooth-faced, constantly neutral. At the moment, his face was lined with care and worry showed in his eyes. "No doubt you two and your crews have noticed the uproar. Officially, there's nothing I can do. My hands are tied – the rest of Starfleet Command thinks the best option is to sit and wait. Of course, there isn't a leak within Starfleet. This is just a terrorist attack, according to my esteemed colleagues."

Chandra's sarcastic bravado cracked and he swallowed. Even an admiral couldn't go against the entire board of his peers without support and his best backer was missing. The two captains found themselves rooting for the tired man. Even if he had never been their favourite person, he had always been undeniably fair in their dealings with him.

"We've got it, sir." Kirk reassured.

"I hope you do, Captain because if you don't, there won't be anything to save you and your crews from a court martial or worse. I will be of no help." Admiral Chandra warned. "Starfleet Command is afraid and they're looking for a scapegoat. Right now, a mole could have free run of Command and you're on official lockdown. Get caught stepping out of line and it'll be the end. The leak is high up, Captain Kirk. They have considerable influence and several Admirals would love to hand your heads to you."

"Understood, sir." Dean replied.

Sam's communicator warbled and he answered discreetly. "What? Pike? Really?"

Hope sprang to life in Admiral Chandra's face. "You have a lead on Pike? Get him back, captains. And if anyone asks, this conversation never happened."

The captains nodded and excused themselves. "What did Jo say?" Dean demanded. Sam looked worried.

"She found one of Pike's hidden recorders in his office. All she's got is that he was alive and out of the building when it blew. Uhura's cleaning it up as we speak."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk leaned over Uhura's shoulder as she pressed play.

Pike's voice sprang to life over the bridge speakers. "Who the hell are you and what do you want?"

"Who we are is not your business!" The voice was heavy, hard and undeniably Romulan. Sam started in recognition.

"I beg to differ. You're holding a phaser to the temple of my secretary. You made it my business. I repeat, who are you?"

"Move!"

There was a feminine gasp, a whirr of wheels and Pike said "All right, calm down. Let Misaki go, I'm complying."

Then there was silence before the recording cut out at the time of the explosion. The Romulans had taken Pike and probably the secretary.

"Dean, that was the captain who took me prisoner to Remus!" Sam exclaimed, plopping down at the science station and flipping through known Romulan commander files. "Him!"

The picture that cropped up on screen was young but hard and lined with cruelty. "Commander Vern," Sam pronounced triumphantly. "Part of the uber-conservative Romulans who think that they should conquer the Federation before the Federation conquers them. Starfleet's been trying to figure out who he answers to for the past year but haven't gotten a lead."

"All right, but how does that help us find Pike?" Dean demanded.

Sam shrugged helplessly. "The details of his file are locked out to anyone lower than an admiral."

* * *

><p><em>Chekov and Ash<em>

"This is your place?" Ash stared in disbelief as Chekov calmly plugged their new PADD into the antique data port.

They were sitting in a dingy café, Chekov eagerly eyeing his Danish and coffee as he convinced the PADD that yes, he did want to access the network. "Dis is de best place to be," he explained calmly. "No vone ewer looks in dese places. And even if dhey did find us, all they vould know is dat ve vere here. No cameras and de old networks do not register anything more than de PADD's presence. I am surprised you do not know dis."

Ash slumped back into the comfortable, abused couch. "There's a child's logic in there somewhere. You do know that these networks can be hacked, right?"

Chekov shrugged. "As long as you stay on top of it, dere is no problem."

"No problem."

"Da."

"Right."

There was a minute's silence.

"Ah, Keptin Kirk has a request. Ve must get dis particular file to dem ASAP. Vould you like to do de honours?"

"Naw, I'll let you work and I'll keep an eye out."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Well that was a colossal waste of time," Bobby grumbled. They had returned to the _Enterprise _after trolling the engineer haunts. Engineers were Starfleet's biggest gossips, talking shop over warp cores and coolant pipes and deceleration drives.

Usually, anyway.

"Aye," Scotty mused. "That means the admirals are keepin' this away from even their secretaries." If even the paper pushers didn't know, this was a problem. "All we can do is tell the captains. And after we boost _Enterprise_'s shields, I have an idea about the _Impala_'s phasers, sommat the _Enterprise_ makes use of but Starfleet doesn't exactly know about. Are ye interested?"

"Is Dean a trouble magnet?" Bobby asked rhetorically.

Time passed quietly. Hacking is not an instant science and no one wanted to get caught. The doctors eventually kicked their captains into the _Enterprise_'s ready room where Kirk dug out a set of cards. Uhura mysteriously provided a pocket of mints as chips. "Is it regulation to distract your captain with candy?" Jo asked curiously.

"You try working with him in deep space when there's absolutely nothing for him to do. Regulations don't apply as long as it keeps him out of my hair," Uhura replied shortly and Jo snickered. McCoy rolled his eyes but didn't dispute and Sam looked rather interested in the tactic.

"Incoming packet from Chekov and Ash," Ellen reported from where she had been babysitting the message PADD. Everyone perked up instantly.

"Captain!" Sulu called suddenly.

"What is it, Mr. Sulu?"

"Sir, the Romulan ambassador's shuttle was just shot out of the sky. By the _Impala_."

Several pairs of eyes turned to a very confused Captain Dean Winchester.

"What the _hell_?"


	3. Who's Rescuing Who?

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p>"Hey, that is <em>so<em> not me," Dean protested as 'Captain Winchester' ranted on a broad-spectrum channel, conveniently hacked into most major news stations about how the Romulans were a blight on the galaxy and they deserved to all be exterminated like rats and on and on.

"Maybe, but now you look crazy _and_ you killed the Romulan ambassador. That's going to start a war right there. Congratulations."

"Damn it Kirk, I did not do that!"

"I know that. You know that. Sam knows that. Everyone on this bridge knows that. The admirals probably know that and don't care. It's a pretty good piece of video editing, you have to admit. Uhura, recall Chekov and Ash. We need to get out of here before Starfleet decides to come looking for the _Impala_'s bridge crew."

"What about my ship?"

Kirk stared at his friend in exasperation. "That ship is now a crime scene. If I show up there, they'll arrest me for conspiracy to commit on principle alone even if I protest. Whoever this mole is, they want Starfleet's radical captains out of commission. We need to find Pike, uncover the mole and convince the Romulans that declaring war is a bad idea."

Dean crossed his arms huffily and stared broodingly out the view screen at his 'desecrated' ship. "Fine. But if she gets so much as a scratch – "

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, mother Winchester. I will help you take it out of the culprits' doomed hides. Bridge crew, stations. Stand by. We'll depart as soon as Mr. Chekov and Mr. Ash arrive. Spock, see if that file Chekov sent us contains coordinates."

Jo and Castiel dithered idly until Scotty ordered them down to engineering. He and Bobby could use the help.

"Chekov," Kirk barked over the communicator as Uhura reported Starfleet security requesting permission to board the _Enterprise_, "you and Mr. Ash need to be aboard right now."

"Yes ser! Actiwating transporter now!"

"Sulu, get us out of here before they close dock doors!"

Sulu eyed the slowly closing doors with steely determination, discarding mooring lines in a haphazard fashion that would later harrow his ordered soul with remorse. The _Enterprise_ screamed out of space dock at a speed that would become legendary, scraping through the doors with only a few hundred meters to spare on either side of the warp nacelles.

"Warp five, Mr. Sulu," Kirk ordered briskly. "Well done."

Chekov had raced onto the bridge and was now tapping away furiously at his console. "Captain, I think we have a potential location regarding Admiral Pike," Spock volunteered. He and Sam looked quite satisfied with themselves.

"Explain, Mr. Spock," Kirk asked as a slightly forgotten Dean leaned on the back railing, listening with interest.

"Commander Vern took Commander Winchester – "

"It's Sam, Spock, we're Starfleet fugitives now."

"Commander Winchester," Spock repeated firmly and his eyebrows lifted slightly in amusement as Sam crossed his arms and huffed "was taken by Commander Vern to meet an older Romulan commander. Strangely enough, the elder Romulan is Commandant Kerlyn."

Dean frowned. "Isn't Kerlyn part of the more liberal Romulans, the ones arguing for peace?"

"You'd think so, but we realized upon review of current Romulan activities that Kerlyn hasn't been volunteering any proactive peace solutions. In fact, he never has. He simply agrees with the majority and keeps his head down. He could very well be a plant. Allowing me to survive would be his first slip up. Of course, it would be my word against his, but it does provide us somewhere to start." Sam concluded.

Spock took over again. "It would be logical to assume that a proud Romulan would want to gloat over an individual such as Admiral Pike. We believe that the most likely location to begin looking would be Commandant Kerlyn's personal moon."

"The dude has his own moon?" Dean blurted. "I think we're in the wrong line of work."

Kirk grinned and ordered Sulu to lay in a course for the moon. "We'll be heading deep into Romulan territory, Scotty," he added over the comm. "This run's going to be at regulation maximum warp, there and back."

"She's up for it, capt'n. We'll hold ye steady at warp 8."

"Estimated arriwal time is eight hours, fifty six minutes, ser," Chekov reported a minute later.

"All right. Sulu, you and I will hold the conn. Dean and Ash, would you relieve us in four hours?" Dean nodded. "Everyone else, catch some sleep, eat something. We're going to need all of you."

* * *

><p><em>8 uneventful hours later<em>

"This is making me twitchy," Dean grumbled under his breath, piloting the responsive ship through space. For such a big broad, _Enterprise_ handled like a dream. "Nothing in my life ever goes this smoothly and certainly nothing this important."

"Dude, I get it," Ash sympathized, running navigational sweeps. "We've ducked two war birds and they weren't even cloaked. I get being comfortable in your own space, but still. They're sitting ducks" He paused and flicked another few fingers over the console. "I get it," he said slowly.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"It'll be a hell of a lot harder getting out. They're not sweeping Federation space, they're sweeping their own. They don't want to keep people out, they want to keep them in – if a Federation ship is caught going in, they can say "Oops, we were lost" and Starfleet will back them up. Going out, it's a little harder. Either way, sneaking in won't be a problem because they're not looking this way. We can zip behind that asteroid and use it as a blind spot. Getting out though – their line of sight is much longer that way. They'll see us."

Dean understood but there wasn't really anything they could do about it until that time arrived.

The elevator doors swished open and Kirk strode onto the bridge. "Morning, boys. How's it going?" As Dean filled Kirk in, the rest of the small crew drifted onto the bridge.

"Keptin, ve should stand by behind dis small asteroid," Chekov suggested, pointing out a suitable hiding place.

"Absolutely, Chekov. Preferably before the Romulans notice we're here."

* * *

><p><em>Kerlyn's Moon – Kerlyn's Personal Residence – 3 hours earlier<em>

"Why is it that I always get the villains with a melodramatic slant?" Pike grumbled as he tried to comfort poor Misaki. The secretary was a pretty young thing, very efficient at her job and a great deal of help to Pike, who hadn't expected all the tiresome minutiae that tagged along with the admiral's knots. But she was a civilian and had never in her wildest dreams expected to be kidnapped by Romulans. This was entirely out of her skill set.

Pike continued to hold her hand as Misaki sniffled and tried to stem her tears. He stared in extreme frustration at his useless legs. The physical therapist had been optimistic about a return of mobility but they hadn't gotten there yet. The most he could manage was a few steps.

Two years ago, he would have broken out of here already, commandeered a ship and made a run for the Neutral Zone. That was now out of the question.

Pike did not like the damsel in distress implications.

Shaking loose from that train of thought and thinking a little more creatively, Pike examined their surroundings. It was a blank, featureless cell. No video (which was odd) and no bars (which was odder). It looked more like an old-fashioned brig cell than a modern political prison.

Most likely, he was being held by an older, extremely conservative Romulan high up in the food chain. They hadn't searched the wheelchair. Romulans saw such things as a weakness.

Pike saw his as an excellent place to hide all sorts of little electronic gadgets. Prepping the passive recorder in the arm rest was the work of a minute. Producing a chocolate protein bar for Misaki, who was rather admirably recovering her composure, Pike settled in to wait. He was here; he may as well gather intelligence.

And wait for the _Enterprise_ or _Impala _to come get him.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Misaki was starting to get a little angry about their treatment, to Pike's amusement.<p>

"How long will they hold us here?" she demanded, fretting away at the little Tetris game he had kept in his arm rest pocket. Misaki had initially frowned at the toy, realizing how he'd kept himself amused in those very long meetings but was finally recognizing the appeal of the little device as time stretched on interminably in the blank room.

"They'll keep us here until they're certain we're annoyed, angry and more likely to blurt out something important."

Misaki blinked at Pike and he had to grin at the irritated look on her face. "They cover this at the Academy?"

"Yep. And I've been in this situation before. Managed to come out all right. We'll be fine." He didn't add that the last time he'd been in this particular situation he'd become a paraplegic. Pike was pretty sure Misaki was trying not to think about that particular incident.

The door banged open and Misaki jumped, Tetris falling to the ground. The Romulan guard snatched the game up and Pike sighed. It was getting harder and harder to find copies of the game. Of course the Romulans wouldn't appreciate it. "It's not a communicator, just a child's toy I carry around for sentimentality's sake," he tried, but the Romulan glared at him and stomped it underfoot.

"Damn it," he swore mournfully. Misaki started to apologize but the Romulan swung a disruptor into her face. Squeaking in surprise, she fell into a terrified silence.

"You will come with me," the guard ordered. Misaki sidled behind Pike, pretending she had to push the chair to keep her relaxed admiral between herself and the threat. Rolling quietly along, Pike could almost hear his secretary's teeth chattering together like castanets. Activating the passive recorder, he observed their surroundings.

Everything smacked of money, age and fine taste. Expensive, scented and polished wood covered dura-steel, the whole large complex appearing calm, quiet and organic. Doors slid open and shut with the barest hiss of pressurized air. Birds sang beautifully and Pike examined the sky. They were on one of three moons orbiting what appeared to be an uninhabitable, Class C planet.

Deep in Romulan territory then. Starfleet would have to send _Enterprise_ and she wouldn't be here for at least another four or five hours.

"In here," the guard ordered. The big double doors slid open, translucent glass letting sunlight light the large airy room with a warm glow. It was really very pretty, especially compared to the dank, hot and dark Romulan ships. An aged Romulan sat behind a low desk, reading a printed dispatch of some kind.

Commandant Kerlyn. Pike was confused – according to Federation intelligence, the man had been a liberal, pushing for peace with the Federation. Unless of course, he was a plant, in which case Pike and Misaki were in serious trouble. The man would show no mercy if he deemed them a threat or conversely too weak to survive.

"Admiral Christopher Pike," the Romulan commandant began, setting down the sheet. "A hero of Starfleet. Personally if I had my legs rendered useless, I would have killed myself immediately." The gray-haired Romulan tipped his head to one side, exhibiting clinical curiosity. "Are you afraid of death?"

Pike heard Misaki's quick inrush of breath and reached up to grab her hand. "It's all right," he murmured to her and then raised his voice. "No, I'm not afraid of death."

"Then why do you continue to exist?"

"I have been informed that I will one day regain my mobility. That and my life's value is not solely determined by my physical state."

Kerlyn looked intrigued. "Naturally but if you are of no use in personal combat– I understand we did not have to post a guard to keep you in your cell – what is your meaning in life?"

Pike was insulted until he realized they could use the no-guard situation to their advantage later. "I choose to focus on the bigger problems in life. I take pride in my subordinates." And if they didn't hurry up to come get him, he was going to kick their asses, wheelchair or not. This was getting old. Kerlyn wasn't going to tell him anything.

"Ah, so you are useless." Kerlyn picked up the dispatch again. "Take them away. We depart for Romulus in thirty minutes. Inform my captain."

Pike swallowed rising shame and anger all the way back to their cell. Even if he knew he wasn't useless, the scorn smarted, bringing up memories of just after the _Narada_ when he felt like half a man. He couldn't even properly protect Misaki, not that the Romulans were interested in a petite Japanese woman.

The cell door clanged shut behind them and he immediately fished out his little ear piece, refocusing with an effort. "Sir?" Misaki asked in confusion and Pike held up a hand. The little bug he'd dropped was active. Listening carefully, he started to learn all sorts of interesting things about Romulan politics. By the time they left, Pike was almost fully cognizant of the Romulan plot and what he couldn't muddle out immediately, Spock or Sam would have the resources to finish.

"All right, Keryln's left the moon," he stated, thanking whatever deity looking out for them that the Romulans were complacent and Pike paranoid. "Time to blow this joint."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise – present time<em>

"Right. So that's the plan. How are we going to do this?" Dean nodded decisively, gesturing expansively to Kirk. "Pick your away team."

Kirk eyed the group in front of him. "Spock, Sam, Dean, Jo and Bones."

Everyone else sputtered or grumbled until Kirk skewered them with his best captain's glare. "We may be fugitives but we're still Starfleet personnel and you all answer to me or Captain Winchester, who has graciously ceded nominal command to me. This is my decision. The rest of you will stand by for extraction. Sulu, you have the conn."

"Sir, transporting in blind is not prudent," Spock remarked calmly as the away team headed for the transporter room.

"No, it's not but I don't think we can afford to take the time to snoop around. _Enterprise_ is a big ship and that's an awfully small asteroid we're hiding behind. Also, they've had Pike for eleven hours and counting. I don't like those odds. Activate transporter."

"Aye sir. If there's any sense to the Romulan complex, I should be putting you down in a laundry yard. Shouldn't be anyone in sight. Good luck, sir." Scotty flipped a quick salute.

Kirk had time to remember the last time Scotty had said something to that effect (the _Narada_, actually) before they rematerialized and a Romulan disruptor pressed right up against his nose.

Right.

Arms training yard. No laundry in sight.

Peachy.

* * *

><p><em>Keryln's Office<em>

Breaking out had been simple. Convincing Misaki to come with Pike on his intelligence gathering mission had been hard.

But right now she was keeping watch and doing a decent job of it. Pike was busy uploading everything in the computer to his chair and realizing that if he hadn't been stuck in the confounded contraption, he wouldn't have had the storage space for all the raw data.

Glancing at the security camera, he blinked.

Kirk, Spock, Winchester, Commander Winchester, Harvelle Jr. and McCoy had just been captured. Swearing softly, he wondered what had possessed Starfleet to send both _Enterprise _and _Impala_ before realizing that they probably hadn't sent either ship.

Which meant his protégés were AWOL.

The fact that they were willing to do that for him was very touching but he was still planning to tear them a new one for this stunt. Winchester in particular had been running a little thin on Starfleet grace (saving Earth only went so far with crotchety, dusty Admirals) and Pike could just imagine talking himself blue in the face to keep the wayward captain from ore runs in the Gamma quadrant.

And now he had to jam Romulan communications, contact whichever Federation ship was up in space and break his kids out of prison.

The day just kept getting better.

* * *

><p><em>Romulan cell<em>

"I believe I stated it was not prudent to transport down without first ascertaining the movements of Romulan guards."

"Yes Spock. I know you did. Thank you."

"Damn Sammy, he does 'I told you so' better than you!" Dean flinched at the stony Vulcan glare leveled his way as Sam bitch-faced while examining the cell door.

"The break-out doo-hickey?" Kirk suggested hopefully.

Sam shook his head. "They went low-tech. No electronic lock. We'd need explosives or acid. There's no keyhole on this side and it's a sliding door. I don't have anything thin or strong enough to act as a lever or wedge."

"Spock? Jo?"

"Commander Winchester's conclusion is accurate."

"I got nothing. They took my bag of tricks, the bastards."

"Great, so we're stuck here. Some rescue this is!" McCoy grumped from where he had parked himself on the bunk. "Now what?"

Kirk shrugged sheepishly. "They took our communicators. We could try storming the door when they come back."

"If they come back," Sam said doubtfully.

"What the hell are you talking about Sammy?" Dean demanded.

"Well, if I were them, I'd just leave us here to rot while they had their merry way with the _Enterprise_ and Federation."

There was a long pause.

"We gotta get out of here."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Nobody likes a smartass, Sammy.

* * *

><p>Pike was tempted to swear under his breath as Misaki nervously kept an eye out for Romulans. They'd been lucky so far, very lucky. But hiding out in Kerlyn's office where mere Romulans feared to tread and wandering around in the open were two very different things.<p>

And it had been quite a while since Pike had actually needed to use old-fashioned lock picks. "Sir, hurry!" Misaki whispered and Pike did swear, twisting the picks delicately.

The lock clicked open and Pike rolled out of the way not an instant too soon.

Spock and Dean barreled through the doorway, pausing stupidly as they scanned for Romulans.

"You damsels need a knight in shining armour?" Pike asked dryly.


	4. Of Enemies and Jackasses

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p>"So kind of you to save us sir," Kirk quipped with a grin as the rescuers-turned-rescued filed out into the hallway, Spock and Sam already checking for Romulan guards. Misaki looked unspeakably relieved to see, well, active Starfleet officers. She thought her admiral a miracle worker (and she was right on that count), but she'd always met these captains when they were getting dressed down for bar fights. Now that she was in Romulan territory, bar fights seemed far more valuable than she had originally thought.<p>

Pike on the other hand raised a skeptical eyebrow, not nearly as impressed. "And just what do you jokers think you're up to?"

The two captains had the good grace to look abashed. "We're rescuing you, sir?" Dean volunteered. Sam's snort was audible, as was his yelp when Dean ground a heel into his brother's boot.

"Uh huh," Pike commented noncommittally. "Rescuing me. Well then. Carry on." He waved a hand. Kirk and Dean took point as they moved through the complex, soon spotting the locker where their equipment had been confiscated.

"Doesn't this feel like the Romulans are slacking?" Dean whispered to his fellow captain, glancing back. Pike was in the centre of the huddle, Misaki looking much better with Sam hovering at her shoulder.

"Or they've got bigger fish to fry. Maybe they've been recalled to attack Earth, which is not a comforting thought," Kirk suggested, handing out communicators. "Scotty?"

"Aye capt'n?"

"Beam us up, we've got everyone." The _Enterprise_'s transportation room was a welcome sight, but just as Kirk stepped off the pad, sirens began to whoop.

"Captain Kirk to the bridge, Captain Kirk to the bridge!" Uhura demanded over the comm. "We have hostiles preparing to fire, I repeat, we have hostiles locking on!"

"I knew it!" Kirk hissed and hit the floor at a dead run. The _Enterprise _shuddered under a barrage just as Kirk burst onto the bridge. "Evasive action Mr. Sulu, we don't have to engage them. We need to be back at Starfleet Command as soon as possible."

The ship wheeled about in some very fancy piloting maneuvers as the Romulan war birds tripped over their toes just enough for Chekov to hit them with phasers, the Russian sneering slightly at the discombobulated Romulan piloting. "Amateurs," Sulu added in disdain.

"Go to maximum warp!" Kirk ordered and the _Enterprise _was gone, swallowed in space.

* * *

><p>"Okay, we have a bit of time before the border," Kirk said, looking around the ready room table. Pike looked calm as ever, Misaki said she was absolutely in on this conversation no matter what despite her wide, terrified eyes and the rest of the crew members were just whetting their appetite for action.<p>

"Sir, what do you know?"

Pike leaned forward. "The Romulan conservative faction is planning to attack the Romulan/Federation peace summit."

Dean shook his head and Sam spoke up. "They won't need to. There won't be a summit. Someone used the _Impala_ to assassinate the Romulan ambassador. We didn't help matters by, um, retreating from the scene of the crime."

"What?" Pike blinked. "That's not right. That's not what Kerlyn had planned."

Confusion reigned freely for a minute as people voiced opinions and theories. "Okay, everybody _shut up_!" Dean said loudly. "The opinions are appreciated but starting to veer into ridiculous territory. Let Spock, Sam and Bobby think for a minute."

"Bobby?" Kirk asked in confusion.

"Our secret tactical strategy weapon. Shush."

"Oh."

The three heads met over a PADD, brows furrowed and voices mumbled for a good five minutes. When they resurfaced, all three looked grim.

"Okay. We think we have an idea of what's going on," Sam said slowly, still turning over the conclusion in his head. "First things first – the Romulans must really want peace. The summit is ongoing as long as Captain Winchester is turned over to the Romulans as soon as he is captured. Secondly, events make sense if you consider this – what if Commander Vern wants a bigger piece of the pie? If he can throw the Federation into confusion in a shorter period of time than Kerlyn, he'll look better than the commandant. However," Sam brought up a whole file of vids. "He rushed it and made a mistake he may not know about. When I realized things were going covert, I started real-time streaming vids to Admiral Cartwright."

"_WHAT?_" almost everyone at the table roared.

"Sammy, you _gave_ him evidence that we were breaking regulation? What the hell for?"

Sam laughed sheepishly. "The recordings are Ash-encrypted, don't worry. Starfleet won't crack them open for a week. And as for my reasons, well, everyone knows Cartwright doesn't like us. But like Chandra, he's scrupulously honest. We may not like the decisions he makes, we may not like him. But the man prides himself on never telling a lie and ensuring his computers are held to the same standard. Everyone knows that. So if we can prove to the Romulans that no members of the _Impala_ were on the bridge of said ship, we can also prove that it may not have been Starfleet officers, especially if the evidence comes from Cartwright."

"But that still doesn't clear Starfleet," Kirk interjected.

"I know," Sam said helplessly. "And I think Kerlyn will continue through with the original summit assassination as planned because it is _possible_ that Starfleet may find a way to wriggle out of the Romulan assassination if given enough time. Which brings us to our third major point. It's pretty much a given that the Romulan spy within Starfleet isn't actually Romulan. He'll have kept evidence of all dealings with the rebel Romulans just to make sure they don't assassinate him. If we find him and his files, we'll have averted war. Admiral Pike, did you happen across any evidence of the spy?"

Pike shrugged and downloaded the information from his chair into the _Enterprise_'s computer. "Have at it," he said expansively. Spock immediately began processing the data.

Ten minutes later, he looked up with a faint gleam of predatory satisfaction in his dark eyes.

"I have the spy, sir."

* * *

><p>Skipping through the border had indeed been trickier than getting in but Bobby and Scotty had worked some engineering magic and the ship screamed through the last terrifying run at warp 9.<p>

Thankfully, the Romulans didn't bother to try and follow the _Enterprise. _Instead, they were almost immediately hailed by Starfleet. "And that would be why," Kirk muttered. "The Romulans want us hauled back to Earth in disgrace. _Then_ they'll demand our asses and threaten war if they don't get us."

"Sir?" Uhura asked.

"Patch it through," Kirk ordered.

"_Enterprise_, prepare to be boarded." A dark-skinned, twenty-something young man with hard eyes, strangely friendly smile and a fine gray pinstriped suit demanded, immediately putting Kirk's back up.

"Son of a bitch," Dean swore from his off-screen 'hiding' spot on the bridge. The rest of the _Impala _crew had made themselves scarce. "Gordon Walker."

Kirk's curiosity was piqued. Dean had spoken of Walker – he was Starfleet intelligence and Dean apparently mixed with Walker like oil and water. Dean couldn't exactly say why he disliked the man, saying Walker just felt like a rabid dog.

Honestly, judging from the wolfish smile spread across Walker's face, the comparison was really quite apt. The intelligence officer calmly reiterated "_Enterprise,_ prepare to be boarded."

"What can the _Enterprise_ do for the _Potemkin_?" Kirk asked politely, coming around to the front of the bridge, noting that Spock joined him. He ignored Walker's demand. "I believe you're Intelligence Officer Walker. Captain Poole, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"You're harbouring fugitives. Close to being a fugitive yourself, Kirk," Walker said over Captain Poole's cordial greeting. Judging from the sour look on Poole's face, he'd been ordered to help Walker and wasn't at all happy about it.

Kirk shrugged. "I don't know about that. Uhura, could you please ask Admiral Pike to come to the bridge?" Walker scoffed at the gesture.

"You think because you managed to successfully fulfil your self-imposed orders that I'm just going to let you go?"

"He's really pissing me off," Kirk muttered to Spock.

"Agreed."

"Actually, _Intelligence Officer_ Walker, you hold no direct jurisdiction over me, nor will any sort of special order from the Admiralty give you such power. I can leave right now and you have no legal grounds to detain me or my ship. Captain Poole, on the other hand, may feel free to transmit his warrant over to the _Enterprise_. If such a document exists, I'll gladly surrender my ship. Until then, I'll just hang onto her and let my superiors deal with me." Kirk crossed his arms over his chest and waited for that little photon torpedo to hit.

Walker flushed a dusky red and the smile slid off his face. "You're right, I don't have such jurisdiction. However, I _was_ given a carte blanche to utilize the _Potemkin_ and her crew as I see fit. I can and will order Captain Poole to open fire on you and wait for my superiors to deal with me. You have five minutes."

The transmission ended. "Well, that was rude. Wants to pick a fight with the _Enterprise_, what is he, stupid?" McCoy growled from the rail. "Damn IO, I hate them."

"Yep. That's the long and short of it. Looks like we'll have to engage. Poole's a good guy but he _will_ follow orders in every sense of the word. Scotty?"

"Aye capt'n?"

"You got the little shuttle-that-could up and running?"

"Aye, that I do."

"Winchester, take the shuttle, Pike and your people. The thing's capable of warp 9 and has shields that give the_ Impala_'s a run for her money. We'll stall Walker long enough for you to get out of here. Then we'll go pick up the spy."

"Sounds good to me. Ship-wide communication – all _Impala _crew, shuttle bay and if you're late, I'm leaving without you!" Dean vanished into the elevator, Sam on his heels.

"Good luck! Don't get caught, I don't want to have to make another rescue run to Remus!" Kirk turned back to the screen. "Now, to business. How can I best piss off this jackass?"

* * *

><p><em>Little Shuttle-that-Could<em>

"This is the shuttle-that-could?" Dean demanded. "It looks like a pile of junk!"

"Capt'n!" Scotty scolded. "She's a fine wee lassie, tough as Klingon leather and just as pretty. She'll get ye where you're going and best of all, no Starfleet officer will look twice."

Dean eyed the shuttle with no small trepidation when Scotty kicked the door open when it stuck irritably halfway. "If you say so."

"Ah do!"

Bobby smacked his captain on the way by. "Double major in engineering, my ass. You're a pilot through and through, seein' only rust an' such. Get in the shuttle and stop talking smack."

"One of these days I'm going to address the insubordination issues within my crew," Dean muttered mutinously.

"Sure you are," Sam soothed absentmindedly and automatically, running scans already. Dean stared in irritation at the back of his brother's head for a minute and then flopped into the bench that looked the most like his captain's chair (it wasn't the same at all).

Castiel familiarized himself with controls, happy to finally be out of the _Enterprise_'s engineering section. To Scott's credit, the engine of the little shuttle hummed with the steady, melodious tune of a happy, fat bumblebee.

Jo strapped herself in beside Misaki, chattering away so the secretary didn't have time to be nervous. Ellen sat down on the other side, still immersed in her advanced xeno-genome paper.

"You're clear for lift off," Scotty called over the intercom. "Shuttle bay doors opening. Best go like a bat outta hell Cas or the _Potemkin_, she'll get a shot or two off."

"Understood."

"Remind'em why ye're_ Impala_ crew, aye?"

Dean grinned. "Damn straight."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

The little shuttle-that-could shot out of the shuttle bay at insane speeds, flashing to warp before anyone but Sulu could blink. "Hot damn Castiel is good," Kirk commented admiringly. "They're clear. Hail the _Potemkin_."

Walker seemed to be fuming. "Who the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Oh, Admiral Pike felt like leaving early. He's not facing charges, is he?" Kirk's smile was seraphic on the surface, malicious glee lurking beneath.

"Who was with him?"

Kirk's smile grew wider. "Admiral Pike's entourage is none of your concern, Intelligence Officer, especially over a mid-security channel. Now, are we going to dance? 'Cause I'm pretty sure my ship's busier than yours and we've got places to be."

Walker glared. "Captain Poole, prepare to open fire on the _Enterprise_." Kirk raised an eyebrow at the captain, who looked torn.

"Chekov, raise shields. Crew stand by for aggressive action," Kirk said calmly, still watching Captain Poole. "Poole, you and I both know that this isn't going to end well for either ship. I've got a spy to sniff out back on Earth and a conspiracy theory to thwart. You also know me – I'm always acting in Starfleet's best interests. And my ship has yet to lose a confrontation. I'd rather not put holes in the _Potemkin_."

Poole's face was expressionless by now. "I have my orders, Kirk."

"No, _Walker_ has his orders. Last I checked the only person who could directly order a Starfleet captain around was an Admiral."

Poole shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Kirk sighed and sat down in his chair. "Sulu, bring us about." The _Enterprise_ heeled around beautifully, weapons spattering off the _Potemkin_'s shields. "Scotty, I don't have time for this fight. Give me something to neutralize the _Potemkin_ now!"

"Aye, capt'n!"

"Sir," Uhura interrupted abruptly.

"Yes, Uhura?"

"I think I can disable her."

Astonishment swept through the bridge. "Have at it?" Kirk said quizzically.

Nodding sharply, she swept fingers across her console and soon the most god-awful screech rang out from her station. Ignoring the sound as she did the battle around her, Uhura continued to cross crystals and spark wires until the _Enterprise _shuddered under her touch, engines skipping, screens flickering and Scotty swore over the comm.

But they were in better shape than the _Potemkin,_ who had ground to a complete halt, dead in the water.

"_Potemkin_'s engines, shields and veapons inoperatiwe, keptin."

"Huh."

Uhura grinned at her captain. "It worked!"

"What exactly did you do? Wait, not yet. First – Sulu, get us out of here."

"Sir, we're being hailed by the _Potemkin_. Walker is demanding our surrender and that we restore function to the _Potemkin_."

When Kirk stared incredulously at her, she shrugged and offered an opinion. "He's an idiot? He's IO?"

"Or he just never had a brain to begin with. Send Captain Poole my regards and apologies. Sulu, warp 8. We have a spy to catch."

When the _Enterprise _was safely away, everyone turned to their pretty communications officer. "Uhura?" Kirk asked. "The floor is yours."

"_Potemkin_'s an older ship sir. Her electronics aren't as shielded as ours. It was a bit of a gamble, but I thought a strong enough electro-magnetic pulse would temporarily disrupt her internal systems, provided of course I could find a wavelength capable of passing through her shields. Obviously, I succeeded."

Everyone else on the ship was sharp enough to fill in the blanks. If Uhura hadn't been absolutely dead on with her little experiment, the _Enterprise's_ own shields would have been fried her like a sunny-side-up egg. "How sure were you that the _Enterprise_ wasn't going to be toasted?" Kirk asked, half afraid of the answer.

Uhura shrugged. "About fifty-fifty. Next time it might not work. Of course as long as none of you spill those statistics to the rest of the world, we won't have to actually use the tactic – it'll be an effective bluff. And that Gordon Walker character was responsible for the _Potemkin_. I imagine she'll be in space dock for a month or so and he'll be dressed down handsomely for allowing lil' ol' me to fritz an entire Constitution-class starship. It's not like patching a hole. They'll have to refit the entire ship's electronics from the ground up. Oh yes, he'll be in trouble."

She smiled angelically.

The men on the bridge shivered.

Women were scary.

* * *

><p><em>Little Shuttle-that-Could<em>

"All right. When we get there, we're going to split up. Jo, you're with Admiral Pike. Protecting him is your first priority. No Romulans get near him. And – "

"Captain!" Ash almost shouted. "It's the _Impala!_"

Every eye searched the view screen for their beloved ship.

Sure enough, she was clipping along at a decent rate, warp 5 according to the computer. "Son of a bitch," Dean swore. "Change of plans. I was just going to hijack whatever ship was available at the summit. This is better – we can arrive safely and we know the _Impala_ like the back of our hands. Prepare to take our ship back."

"Sir, they're powering up weapons and preparing to fire on us!" Castiel reported before anyone could move and Dean scowled.

"That's odd," Pike chipped in. "They're supposed to determine our identity before firing and we're broadcasting Starfleet colours."

"Unless," Sam said slowly. "Unless it's not Starfleet officers flying her."

Several figures stiffened when they realized the implications suggested.

"Sam, are you trying to tell me that _Romulans _are flying _my_ ship?"

Sam shrugged unhappily as Dean clenched his jaw.

"Oh hell _no_. Hang in there, sweetheart! We're coming to rescue you!"


	5. Spies, Captains and Starships

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise – Earth – Currently hiding behind Jupiter<em>

"So." Kirk clapped his hands together. "Everyone's clear on their mission? Excellent. Scotty, you have the conn."

Sulu and Chekov were dressed to blend in with civilians and the first to leave, followed shortly by Spock, McCoy and Kirk, formally and impeccably dressed in Starfleet red.

"You know," Uhura voiced. "This is becoming a habit."

Scotty glanced up from his console. "How's that, lass?"

"You and I, always left behind on the ship. Should I be concerned about our field qualifications?"

"Ah, not at all, lassie. The explanation's simple. Capt'n knows we're the only ones brilliant enough to keep the rest of that mad lot away from disaster."

"Really?"

"Aye, true as the _Enterprise_ herself!"

* * *

><p><em>Kirk<em>

Kirk let himself rub his hands together in righteous anticipation as he stormed down the corridors of Starfleet Command like he owned the place, flanked by his two best friends.

People skittered out of his way like he had the plague and it was an impressive sight – a red sea of uniforms parting before one golden-haired captain with glacier-cold blue eyes.

"Lieutenant Reuter?" Kirk asked in his best implacable captain's voice.

Admiral Chandra's secretary jumped, turning away from his conversation with a rather pretty desk attendant.

"Yes," the thin, tightly-wound man replied, his eyes twitching from Kirk to Spock to McCoy and back again. "What's this about, Captain? I can g-get you in to see the Admiral r-right away if you like. He has a few fr-free minutes. Perhaps we should continue this in private?"

Kirk was immovable. "By the authority vested in me by Starfleet Command, you are under arrest for high treason committed against the United Federation of Planets and her allies, terrorism, perpetrating the kidnapping of one Starfleet Admiral Christopher Pike and his subordinate Misaki Shirozuki, impersonating one Starfleet Captain Dean Winchester and the hijacking of the Miranda-class USS _Impala_. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a Starfleet court of law. You have the right to fair representation. If you cannot afford a representative, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights?"

"Is this a joke?" Reuter managed to blurt. Silence hung heavily after the little man giggled nervously. Every individual in the immediate vicinity was staring in amazement at either the flagship captain or the accused.

"Do you understand your _rights_?" Kirk demanded.

"Uh, yes, yes I do."

"Very well. Commander Spock?"

The first officer firmly and impersonally spun the man around, slipping a plasti-steel zip tie around skinny wrists with practiced ease.

"Excuse me, miss." Kirk leaned over the console of the astounded desk attendant. "I need you to call an immediate emergency meeting of the Admiralty."

"Sir! Only admirals can do that!"

"Oh, right. Pardon me then." And Kirk gently nudged her out of the way, whipping through protocols, utilizing the command code given to him by Admiral Pike. "There," he said with satisfaction a mere minute later. "Now, you can tell your superiors I hijacked your station. With Admiral Pike's permission, of course. You won't be in any trouble. Please let the admirals know we'll be waiting in their ready room."

He was like a typhoon. Normally captains had to be invited into the Admiralty's ready room but Kirk figured he could use every advantage, including catching the admirals off guard by flaunting a courtesy enacted to ensure captains felt the superiority of their admirals.

So he parked himself comfortably in Pike's customary place after dragging a chair over. Spock stood their prisoner in the corner while McCoy downloaded their evidence into the Starfleet database as well as checking on the other mission taking place.

"Sulu and Chekov succeeded, Jim."

* * *

><p><em>Sulu and Chekov<em>

"Ve are da bomb!" Chekov crowed on the street as Sulu grinned ear to ear. They had walked straight into the Starfleet Database and inserted a very deceptively simple computer program. The technical aspect hadn't been difficult for the Russian kid who hacked Starfleet intelligence at age 12. The sheer balls of two known Starfleet officers walking in the front doors, down to the closest secure terminal and then inserting new programming under the beady eye of a suspicious security camera? That combination of courage and cool nerves was a little harder to come by.

The results of this little jaunt would ensure that the warrant for Captain Winchester's arrest got very lost somewhere between a requisition for the new _Constellation_'s basic replicator supplies and a rather large quantity of bleach destined for Starbase 6. The incriminating doctored vid file would go straight to the top of the priority list for video analysis and debunking before heading straight to the Romulan ruling council as per two Admirals' 'request.'

Sulu had wanted to be Pike. Chekov hadn't wanted to be Chandra. There had been a very intense rock-paper-scissors war over who got to be which admiral.

Sulu lost.

Still. He figured he could let it go, since they hacked Starfleet Database and walked away unscathed.

Yeah, they were da bomb.

* * *

><p><em>Kirk<em>

Oh yeah. He'd just beaten Winchester's record eight admirals-pissed-at-the-same-time record. Yep. This time he had all _eleven_ ticked, including Chandra. The only one who would like him after this stunt would be Pike.

Kirk dropped his boots from the polished oak table to the ground, bounding to his feet. "Admirals," he greeted amiably. "May I present to you the Romulan-allied spy within Starfleet. He's responsible for enabling the plots perpetrated by Romulan extremists over the past forty eight hours."

McCoy obligingly clicked through a very well organized trail of damning evidence thrown up on the big projection screen. "As you can see, he's been feeding information to the Romulans and using his position to selectively bump Starfleet intelligence about so higher priority information is buried until too late to be effective," Kirk continued. "He is also responsible for planning and enabling the kidnapping of Admiral Pike and the false vid of Captain Winchester decrying the Romulans. Additionally, he has smuggled Romulans onto the USS _Impala_ and allowed them to make off with it. We also have reason to believe there is going to be a strike against the peace summit."

Those last two bits of information were loaded bombshells. "You mean you didn't _notice_ that arguably the most recognizable Miranda-class ship in the fleet and concurrently the weapon of an ambassadorial assassination went missing? You didn't even consider that a peace summit is the perfect target?" Kirk's voice was starting to rise as a few admirals flushed pink.

Chandra rubbed his forehead wearily, Cartwright was turning purple and Kirk didn't have time for this. "Please tell me you have security present at that peace summit." His statement wasn't a request.

"We don't," Chandra replied lowly. "The Romulans insisted. The Earth, Orion and Vulcan ambassadors are exposed. They volunteered. And of course we considered the summit a target. But at some point we have to take a risk."

Kirk stood silent for a moment, watching various admirals squirm."Spock, recall the crew. _Enterprise _departs in ten minutes with as many personnel as you can muster. The spy is coming with us. Quite frankly, right now I don't trust Starfleet Command. You bunch had better pray that Admiral Pike and Captain Winchester make it to the summit on time. Bones, tell Scotty to beam Reuter to the brig. Feel free to stab the traitor with toxins, exotic diseases, laxatives, the like."

"In the best interests of containing the prisoner, am I right?" Bones drawled, his Georgia accent thicker than corn syrup.

"Whatever you feel necessary."

"Oh really?" Dr. Leonard McCoy smiled slowly at his prisoner and Reuter found himself wishing the very angry Captain Kirk had taken charge of him instead.

At least Kirk would kill him if he tried to escape.

Reuter wasn't so sure McCoy would allow him that luxury.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Well, there was one bright side to this whole _Impala_-hijacked fiasco, Sam mused as he fired his phaser with pin-point accuracy.

Dean was working off his explosive anger on the Romulan skeleton crew instead of Sam or an _Impala_ officer and all Sam had to do was keep the Romulan bastards from stabbing his big brother in the back.

Piece of cake, especially since Sam was pretty pissed too. No one got to violate the _Impala_ like that and walk away from the encounter with their limbs (or life) intact.

Dean Winchester brawled with the best of them, going toe to toe with physically superior Romulans and winning because he was angry, fast and fought dirtier than a bar rat. To Dean's way of thinking, there was no honour in this battle. The Romulans had tossed it out the shuttle bay doors when they had stolen his ship.

Half an hour later, he was nursing a beautiful black eye and a throbbing headache as the _Impala_ hummed under his command once more, his battered bridge crew triumphant. The Romulans had been stripped stark naked, chained and tossed in the brig under a very watchful, wrathful Bobby's eye (when he had seen what they'd done to his beloved engines, Sam had had to persuasively talk him out of pitching every last Romulan into cold hard vacuum).

And the _Impala_ was making a run for the peace summit, praying they'd make it in time.

"Incoming message," Sam said gingerly around a split lip, "from _Enterprise_."

"On screen. Hey Jim! Look who's back!" Dean patted his command chair affectionately.

"Glad to hear it Dean but you gotta listen up."

At the deadly serious tone of voice, Dean frowned and leaned forward, focusing. "What's up?"

Upon hearing the bungling of the Admiralty, Dean had to bite his tongue very hard. He made a habit of not swearing impulsively on the bridge. Loss of control was unprofessional and clouded one's thinking.

"All right," he said slowly. "Castiel, Ash – maximum warp. I want to be there ASAP. At the very least we can beam the ambassadors aboard the _Impala _and run the Romulans in circles until _Enterprise_ arrives."

Provided they weren't grossly outnumbered. That knowledge hung in the air like a heavy stench and Dean scowled. Massively short-handed, going into a battle situation blind, this whole situation was messy.

But allowing the rebel Romulans to have their way was unacceptable.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Screaming along at warp 9.1, the _Enterprise_ was threatening to fall apart at the seams.

Jim Kirk would not have the death of his first officer and best friend's father on his conscience, not when he could tear his ship apart to save the Vulcan.

Spock was as always emotionless, but every senior bridge member could feel the tension seeping off their first officer in waves. "Winchester will get to them in time," Kirk said quietly. "He's damned reliable."

He wasn't sure who he was reassuring, Spock or himself.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Okay people, this is going to be sticky," Dean barked. "Sam, I want you to broadcast a communications-failure beacon so the rebels don't get suspicious when we don't hail them. Bobby, stand by on that transporter. As soon as you have a lock on the ambassadors, beam them up, Romulan representative included."

The _Impala_ dropped out of warp, sailing merrily past six rebel Romulan warbirds that weren't supposed to be anywhere in the solar system, let alone in orbit over the summit. "Got a lock, transporting up," Bobby reported. "Ambassadors aboard, Captain!"

"Shields up!" Dean ordered.

"We're being hailed by the Romulans," Sam called crisply as their ship squared off.

"On screen."

The Romulan commander of the hailing warbird happened to be Commander Vern, who was practically swimming in his own smugness. "Captain Dean Winchester, you are in far, far over your head. You just kidnapped the Romulan ambassador. I'm going to have to try and take him back but your tiny under-powered clam-shell of a ship just won't be able to withstand the barrage. And then you will be dead, along with all the ambassadors. The Federation will go to war. Beg for mercy and I may keep you alive to watch the glorious Romulan triumph!"

"And then you will rule the world with an evil mwa-ha-ha!" Dean muttered derisively to Sam, who had to swallow a grin. "Just listen to the guy. What's _Enterprise_'s ETA?"

"Twenty two minutes."

"What are the odds of us managing to meet them half way?"

Sam shrugged. "Not great but better than staying here to duke it out with those war birds."

"So I don't have to beg this dick for mercy?"

"Hell no. Tell him exactly what you think."

"Excellent." Dean shifted forward in his captain's chair, turning back to the now-irritated Commander Vern.

"Listen here, douche-bag. You've kidnapped a mentor of mine, dragged my name through the mud, hijacked and insulted my starship, attacked the Federation and broken numerous treaties. All of this I could potentially, possibly let slide if I really had to. But," and Dean's voice dropped an octave and several thousand degrees, "you condemned my brother to death on a Romulan prison planet. So there is no way in _hell_ I am surrendering anything or anyone to you. Prepare to die."

He nodded to Sam, who cut the transmission. Clapping his hands together, Dean let out a big, relieved breath in a whoosh. "All right-y. Time to blow this popsicle stand before the Romulan gets his head wrapped around those insults."

"What about the preparing to die bit?" Ash drawled as they blurred to warp, narrowly squeaking between two Romulan ships and zigzagging crazily to throw off potential pursuers.

Dean shrugged lightly but there was a dangerous gleam in his eye. "It sounded good?"

Sam snorted. "More like if Jim hears you ganked all the bastards responsible for this fiasco he'd never forgive you for causing him miss out on the party."

"That too."

"Sir, the ambassadors are asking to see you," Jo reported over the comm.

"On my way, Jo. Sam, you have the conn. Don't let the Romulans singe our pretty white tail."

Dean strolled into the _Impala_'s only large conference room and braced for verbal impact. The Earth ambassador was a petite, fiery woman who immediately laid into Dean. "Captain Winchester, this conduct is infamous! I am going to inform Starfleet Command that you kidnapped us and disrupted the peace summit! I will have you stripped of your rank and ship even if you manage to skate out of the impending murder charges!"

Dean listened carefully until she ran out of steam. "Ambassador Ringuette," he greeted politely, "Ambassador Sarek, Ambassador P'lek and Ambassador Baile. Welcome to the _Impala_. You will be joined momentarily by Admiral Pike, who will be explaining the situation to your satisfaction. If you would turn your attention to the PADDs in this room, I believe you will also find facts explaining my actions today. We will be rendezvousing with the _Enterprise _in approximately eight minutes. At that time, we will be forced to go into combat with six rebel Romulan warbirds. If there are no immediate questions, I must return to the bridge."

Nodding to each, he stepped out of the room again. One of Jo's security officers was stationed outside. "Lieutenant, I don't want the ambassadors running around the ship loose. They're under your care. Should this section of the ship be attacked or damaged, I trust your discretion in choosing to move the ambassadors to a safer location. Understood?"

The officer snapped to attention just as Sam recalled Dean to the bridge. _Enterprise_ was waiting for them. As Dean settled into his captain's chair, status reports rolled in.

"Romulans estimated to arrive in four minutes, Dean."

"Shields at maximum, captain."

"Engines ready and raring to go."

"Excellent. Isn't she a sight for sore eyes," Dean muttered, eying the big Constitution class ship. "You know, if I were the cheating type, I'd say with the sort of trouble we've been encountering lately, it would almost be worth considering the shiny shields and phasers."

The bridge crew glared daggers at their blaspheming captain.

"If, people, I said if!"

Dean was saved by the Romulans dropping out of warp and bringing weapons to bear.


	6. AssKicking and its Repercussions

I do not own Supernatural or Star Trek 2009

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Fire! Sulu, evasive maneuvers, don't let them get away!"

_Enterprise _sailed into battle with deadly efficiency as the _Impala_ danced about space like an irritated vengeful faerie of myth. The two ships worked beautifully in tandem.

Still, they were outnumbered three to one and these were not the clumsy Romulans left behind to defend an empty house. These were bloodthirsty, Federation-hungry warriors, experienced in battle and it showed. They blinked in and out of cloak, dishing back as good as they got.

"Shields dropping, keptin! Ve can't take much more of this!"

"Open a channel directly to Pike's communicator! Sir, you have got to get us reinforcements or we are going to lose the _Impala_ and probably the _Enterprise_ as well!"

"Captain, we're being hailed by the Romulans!"

The frenzied insanity of battle paused for a brief second. "On screen."

"Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Federation starship _Enterprise_," Commander Vern drawled and Kirk had to suppress a strong urge to flip him the bird, "surrender now and I will spare your ship. The_ Impala_, regrettably, has refused my generous offer and will serve as an example to you and the entire Federation."

In one of those rare moments where everyone on the bridge could practically read each other's minds, Sulu whirled to look at his captain, who nodded briefly. "And what happens if we do surrender?" Kirk asked, nervously playing with his sleeves and doing his best to appear the milk-blooded Federation dog the Romulan rebels believed him to be.

Meanwhile, the _Enterprise_ sidled carefully between the _Impala_ and their foes, Sulu gently nudging the great ship over until her stronger shields could take the brunt of a future strike.

"You and your command crew submit to me as my slaves. There will be no other alternative." And then in nauseating detail, the commander began the inevitable villain's monologue. Kirk could barely keep from rolling his eyes in exasperation. But hey, if the commander wanted to give them time to get ready to kick his ass, Kirk could stand a little evil propaganda.

Chekov flashed his captain a subtle thumbs up, keeping an admirable poker face. Shields back at maximum, phasers online, engines as ready as they'd ever be, _Impala _covered.

Fantastic.

Kirk's whole posture changed as he stood, sharp-eyed and ready to strike. Interrupting Vern mid-diatribe, Captain Kirk strode around to stand directly in front of the screen. "Commander Vern. We appreciate your most gracious offer of enslavement, degradation and death. However, it is our duty, right and privilege to disintegrate you into space dust should you decide against immediately turning yourself into the appropriate Romulan authorities."

Commander Vern scoffed. "You are outnumbered and out-gunned."

Kirk raised a scornful eyebrow. "That's what they said when we faced off against the _Narada_. Everybody knows how that ended. Your decision?"

"Go to hell, Kirk."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

His poor girl. Abused, battered and beaten, she was still holding up.

"Dean, if we take another hit like that we're going to lose hull integrity!" Bobby shouted from Engineering.

Shit.

Then the Romulans stopped firing. "They're communicating with _Enterprise_," Sam reported, "but using a channel I don't have time to hack." If Dean understood half of what Sam was yelling at Bobby over the comm, his brother was remotely re-wiring half of the ship to try and reroute power.

And suddenly a big white nacelle slipped slowly into their line of view. "Kirk what the…no way. That's just insulting." The _Enterprise_ was going to take the hits for them. Still, they couldn't really argue against the action, not when Bobby was worried about the hull, their shields were sputtering at 3% and phasers inoperable.

"Get Pike up here," Dean ordered. "Ready the shuttle-that-could. Cas, you are going to take the ambassadors and Pike back to earth."

Castiel acknowledged but looked decidedly unhappy about it.

Pike rolled onto the bridge a minute later. "You're going back to Earth," Dean told him. "I can't spare anyone other than Cas, so you're going to have to navigate. Sir, you can't fight me on this. Those ambassadors need to survive. You're an admiral and a popular one at that. You end up dead, the Federation will demand reparation and this whole conflict won't end."

Admiral Christopher Pike hated himself at that moment in time. He had never once run from a battle without first engaging to the best of his abilities. Suddenly being admiral seemed like a ridiculous proposition.

Yet arguing with the stony-eyed captain in front of him would be an insult to Dean Winchester's expertise and courage. "Very well," he acquiesced. "Lieutenant Castiel, shall we?"

Castiel stiffly marched towards the elevator. "Cas!" Dean called over his shoulder. "I'm entrusting you with these five lives. Get them home and we'll catch up with you, I promise."

"Promise, Captain?"

"I swear. I will bring the _Impala_ and her crew home to Earth alive."

Castiel swallowed hard and pushed the elevator button as Dean moved from captain's chair to piloting console. "Ash, get your genius ass down to Engineering and help Bobby. Sam, I need you."

The bridge crew shuffled into the effective but unusual configuration. The brothers could work together with more precision than most computers. Ash's off-the-wall thinking had saved the warp cores on more than one occasion.

All they had to do was wait.

When the battle rejoined, Castiel took the opportunity to blast his little shuttle out of the bay and broke to warp so fast the _Impala_'s shields rocked in the wake of the disruption.

The one thing Dean did better than Castiel was pilot like an old-fashioned WWII dogfighter. Castiel could fly the ship more efficiently, complete long journeys faster, dock more safely (Dean was never going to live down the parallel parking incident). But when it came to flying in combat, Dean Winchester flew like he fought – born to it.

And Sam's weapons officer skills were unparalleled. Again, Ash was the premiere navigator, possibly better at utilizing the shields efficiently. But Sam could singe the fly off a ship's hull with the main phaser and not break a sweat.

The _Impala _roared into battle under the strong hand of her captain, her phasers roaring with renewed fury, skipping out from under the _Enterprise_'s protective shields.

She was kicking ass and taking names today.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Kirk," Dean greeted over the comm.

"Winchester," he replied with a small grin as sparks flew around him and the ship quivered underneath his feet.

"In shit yet?"

"Dunno. Aren't you supposed to be captain? Why the hell are you flying the damn ship?"

"Cas took Pike and the stiffs back to Earth."

"They're safe?"

"As far as Sam can tell."

Said individual swore colourfully and banged on something off screen, electricity crackling across the connection. "Sam, you kill this connection with your weirdo experiments and I will deep-space your coffee chip!" Sam's reply was nonverbal and very rude, which made Dean laugh. "So. When's Vern going to drop the hammer?"

"Don't know, but Spock estimates it'll take the bastard another hour to get his weapons up. Got an ETA on your impulse engines?"

"Fried. No going back. Yours?"

"Scotty says he'll beat Vern. Spock says another four hours."

"Well shit."

"Hey, dude, we beat five Romulan warbirds between the two of us. We are badass. Whoever was shooting during that last go around – I want them on the _Enterprise._ You were warned."

"You can't have Sam. Ever. Your transporter operational?"

"Spock's working on it. It's one of those make or break things. If he gets it fixed, it'll be up in fifteen. If he doesn't get it fixed, there won't be another try. He's on his last conduit. When he does get it working, wanna go Romulan-hunting with us?"

"Dude, yes."

There was a pause. Being captain sucked. You had to sit on the bridge and make sure the enemy didn't do anything screwy while the rest of your crew worked themselves to the bone trying to fix the mess. Kirk had already offered his help to Engineering, gotten kicked out of sickbay and tried to help the engineering ensigns fix the bridge. They had gotten Spock to order him back into the captain's chair. He imagined Dean was in the same boat.

"Hey, wanna play I-Spy again?"

* * *

><p><em>Twenty minutes later…<em>

Dean and his away team materialized on the _Enterprise_'s transporter pad. "Clearly Mr. Spock is a genius," he said by way of greeting.

"Naturally," Kirk responded. "All right people, listen up! The captains are going to head straight for the rotting toad known as Vern. Make sure we get there alive. That's the plan. Any questions? Good. Shove over, we're doing this in one shot." Had the Admiralty heard such a sparse plan, they would have had Kirk committed. Kirk knew though, that their men were good enough to fill in the details and time was of the essence.

With that in mind, the _Enterprise_'s away team crowded up onto the platform. Twenty two men between the two ships. Any more would slow down the strike and make it inefficient.

"Scotty, ready?"

"Aye capt'n. We'll hold the fort here, sair. Engines will be online if it kills me."

"Good luck. Energize."

* * *

><p><em>Rebel Romulan Warbird<em>

"Well, he didn't drop us in the arms yard again," Dean muttered as they ducked down behind a wall of pipes in a deserted engineering section. A weird, warbling alarm kept whooping through the air accompanied by harsh Romulan commands.

"Spock?" Kirk asked for a translation, gesturing to the speaker.

"The weapons and shields are still inoperable. They are looking for intruders."

"All right people, you heard the man. Let's move but keep an eye out for the enemy."

Splitting into their respective crews, the two teams slipped through the dark, hot bowels of the Romulan ship.

Commander Jo Harvelle was practically humming with anticipation. She and her security crews had been helping out all day but security officers often felt incredibly useless during a space battle. They would fill mundane, non-specialized clean up positions or simply sit decked out in battle gear on standby in case of invaders.

Now she was on the prowl, on point actually, since Sam refused to put Dean at the head and threatened to sit on his brother unless Dean let Jo do her job.

Moving smoothly and silently, the _Impala_ crew didn't really run into trouble until they emerged on the upper levels. Lurking in a doorway, they watched several Romulans dashing back and forth.

"Captain, we'll break through. You and Sam keep going, don't look back, don't get bogged down. Someone has to take the commander," Jo whispered. She and her men came out firing as Sam and Dean slipped through.

* * *

><p><em>Kirk and crew<em>

For someone who hated phasers, McCoy certainly was a very good shot. Of course if Kirk ever told him that, Bones would never touch one again. Then he couldn't come on away missions and life would get difficult for Kirk, who relied on the older man's steady advice and blunt honesty.

Which was neither here nor there, Kirk mused as he ducked a disruptor shot. McCoy waved him through and Kirk darted across the corridor. "I bet Winchester got the easy side," Kirk panted and McCoy grunted, calmly dropping a Romulan bearing down on a rather flustered young ensign.

"Take the hobgoblin and get up to the bridge. If Vern decided he wants to do anything stupid like a self-destruct, you'd better be up there ASAP." Kirk tried to protest but Cupcake (what's-his-name, Gotto, Giotto…eh, who cared, Cupcake fit far better) agreed.

"Sir, you've gotta go. Now."

Kirk glanced over at the Romulans. "Fine. But neither of you is allowed to die, got it?"

Cupcake nodded seriously while McCoy rolled his eyes. "Spock, get him out of here."

* * *

><p><em>Romulan warbird bridge<em>

Kirk and Dean literally bumped into each other in the mad scramble for the bridge door. "Left," Kirk muttered and Dean nodded, motioning Sam right.

They stormed the bridge, accurate phaser fire laying out the majority of their opponents. Dean staggered Commander Vern with a vicious right cross, snapping the Romulan's head sideways and throwing him off enough to allow a brutal kidney punch in. When the Romulan staggered, Dean finished the job with a thunderous uppercut.

Romulan physique or no, Vern dropped like a rock.

Shaking out a fist that was probably suffering a few cracked bones, Dean Winchester stood triumphantly over his vanquished foe.

"_That_ was for the _Impala_, bitch."


	7. The Burden of Being Awesome

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p>The problem with being awesome, Dean reflected forty eight hours after laying Vern out cold, was that eventually the people jealous of your awesome caught up with you and then tried to steal your awesome.<p>

Take for example, one Gordon Walker, currently trying to lord it over an exhausted Jim Kirk and take credit for not blasting the _Enterprise_ into oblivion. Dean would have gone to help his buddy, but he was just so damned tired.

Evidently Kirk was of the same opinion, curtly cutting Walker off and turning to Spock, waving a dismissive, weary hand at Chekov, who scurried off the bridge like his shoes were on fire. The rest of the bridge crew had already been relieved of duty after they were reasonably sure neither the _Enterprise_ nor the _Impala_ were going to fall apart on the spot. The Romulans were locked up. _Potemkin_ was undergoing a review of her actions. Walker was probably trying to salvage what was left of his career.

And both Dean and Kirk were under the microscope. Admiralty was still pissed at Kirk (damn, Dean was sorry he'd missed seeing Kirk with his feet up on the admirals' beloved conference table). Finding a spy and saving ambassadors not withstanding, they had stolen two ships, hacked numerous Starfleet operations, broken who knows how many laws and now the Romulans still weren't exactly sure if they wanted to recruit or execute Jim and Dean.

Slumped in Spock's science officer chair, Dean didn't care as long as he got a shower and bed soon. Preferably with a visit to Bones or Ellen first because his hand still hurt like a bitch.

He was starting to hope everyone had forgotten him when the _Enterprise_'s elevator doors swished open, interrupting Walker's mindless babbling. A short, non-descript man in a plain gray suit and a very yellow tie stepped out with a wry, whimsical smile. "Walker, I see you're still an ass and only borderline competent. Why don't you go back to your little extermination project on BC-2634?"

Walker's mouth gaped angrily and the man raised his eyebrows. The volatile IO subsided and the newcomer's smile grew. "Excellent. Now, if you'd get lost? I want to have a very short conversation with these gentlemen before they fall asleep on me."

Walker stormed off the bridge without looking back and Kirk plopped into his captain's chair. "Who the hell are you, what do you want, make it fast and make it short." Kirk's voice was full of gravel and he rubbed his eyes blearily. In six hours, Admiralty wanted _Enterprise_ liaising with the Romulan ruling council to catch Kerlyn and Kirk was pretty sure he'd need at least five hours of sleep to be functional.

The man's grin seemed ever-present. It was starting to make Dean's face hurt just watching. "I'm Tom Gabriel, Supervisory Intelligence Officer. You can call me Gabriel." Both Kirk and Dean barely swallowed a groan. Another one? "Yes, I know, we're not exactly your favourite people and you're exhausted."

"Then why are you still here?" Dean demanded irritably, since Kirk seemed to be sleeping with his eyes open. Gabriel ambled about the bridge, eyeing the smoking, seared sections with distaste and Dean had to swallow the urge to flip him the bird. They'd fought _hard_ to win so of course the ships were a little dinged. Hey, the _Impala_ was still venting atmosphere sporadically. They could hold this powwow over there. SIO Gabriel would have real fun in zero gravity and atmosphere. Dean's poor best girl was floating dead in space.

Gabriel's voice snapped Dean back to reality saying that he was there "to tell you to be careful tomorrow," looking at Dean, "and that I'm coming with Captain Kirk tomorrow." Kirk managed to glance over and glare. "Admiralty's orders," the IO continued. "Starfleet's intelligence analysts have determined that the likelihood of the Romulan ruling council allowing you to take Kerlyn into custody is very slim. I know," Gabriel held up a hand, "you two probably guessed that. But this is a perfect opportunity for me and my people to drop off an agent. I'd like to take that chance."

Kirk sighed. "I don't give a damn. Be on the ship before we leave. I'm going to bed." He heaved himself out of his chair and lurched off the bridge. Dean followed him.

"Well, they're rude. Though why I was expecting anything else is beyond me," Gabriel muttered to himself, eying a sparking console with mistrust. "And how this dinged up ship is going to get us there is also a mystery."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Dean watched the _Enterprise_ blip out of sight the next morning, still scrubbing at his face and inhaling coffee like it was oxygen. He did not envy Kirk at all. Instead of another little jaunt into Romulan territory, the _Impala_ was going straight to space dock for another refit and all they had to do was keep tabs on all the Romulans and one spy. It was going to be easy-peasy, despite what doom-and-gloom Sam thought and that pansy Gabriel's cryptic warning.

That was when the brig breach warning whooped through the bridge and Dean was tempted to pitch his scalding mug of coffee in the speaker's general direction. Of course the Romulans were going to break out despite lacking in clothing and weapons. Resourceful bastards.

He ordered security to assess the situation, bawled for Sam, locked out Engineering and the bridge and picked irritably at the cast on his right hand. Dean waited, trusting Jo and her boys to handle it (that and Ellen was still pissed about him breaking his hand on a Romulan's face. If he busted it again, she'd promised to let it take the old-fashioned eight weeks to heal).

"Situation under control, captain," Jo calmly reported ten nerve-wracking minutes later. "Unfortunately Lieutenant Reuter is dead. I believe that was the Romulan objective, sir, and am afraid Reuter died without imparting important information."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "Thank you Commander." Now he had to tell the Admiralty that he'd lost the Romulan spy and wouldn't that just look suspicious. Good thing he'd stayed on the bridge, right within the beady range of the cameras. Of course, they'd say his famously loyal crew had anticipated his deepest desires (please no. That would be awkward as hell) and allowed the Romulans to assassinate Reuter.

This morning was not getting any better.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

I must not kill the annoying Supervisory Intelligence Officer, Kirk thought carefully as he gritted his teeth and tried to think happy thoughts. At least SIO Gabriel was competent and his people kept their noses out of _Enterprise_ business. But he was so energetic, always chewing on a lollipop in the crunchiest, noisiest way possible, always asking questions, always so damned irritating. At least Kirk had had possible grounds to pitch Walker into the brig.

The worst part was that Uhura seemed to think Gabriel funny, Chekov kept stealing his lollipops and Spock clearly didn't mind the man after he demonstrated a working knowledge of theoretical wormhole physics.

Bones didn't like Gabriel either, said he was a smarmy sugar-hyped child and that was decent consolation. Bones' support still didn't help Kirk's urge to hard-vacuum the SIO twit though.

And the Romulan ruling council were being a bunch of annoying jackasses. Kirk's small supply of sympathy had run out a long time ago, back when the Romulan respresntative had inferred that Kirk had orchestrated the whole grand rebel conspiracy (including Pike's kidnapping) just to make himself look good.

He kept his shoulders carefully square and glared at the Romulan representative over his view screen. "Gabriel's men are clear," Spock murmured in his ear.

"Regrettably, esteemed Representative," Kirk said with internal relief and glee, "we must return to Federation space. _Enterprise_ is being recalled by Starfleet. I trust the Romulan ruling council will continue the manhunt for Kerlyn."

The Romulan representative happily let the nosy _Enterprise_ and her normally persistently perceptive crew scoot back to Federation space. "Of course they're going to let Kerlyn run around loose, now they have a scapegoat for any covert sabotage," Kirk muttered to himself as he stood under his shower a full twelve hours later. _Enterprise_ was dawdling home so that when they faced the firing squad, her crew would be sharp and alert.

"Captain to the bridge! Admiral Pike calling!"

Or faced the firing squad now, you know. Doesn't really matter where it takes place as long as you dodge the bullets.

Kirk stood smartly at attention as Pike's image snapped on screen. "Kirk, I trust things went smoothly?"

"We didn't find Kerlyn but _Enterprise_ is in one piece and the refuse safely jettisoned if that's what you mean."

Gabriel squawked mildly as Kirk smirked. Food, lovely sleep and a shower had him back to his usual smart-ass self and Gabriel was going to learn that Captain James T. Kirk gave as good as he got.

Pike's mouth twitched before he marshalled himself. "General consensus of the admirals is that we're going to ignore your actions. No medals, no reprimand. It didn't happen. We'll refit the _Impala_ and send you two back out into space where hopefully you can do less damage." Pike grinned when Kirk muttered something about making a habit of saving the Federation and ungrateful admiral bastards. "Of course, all our security protocols are going to be overhauled, including the ones you…bent."

Damn. Now Chekov would be tied up for a week re-establishing all their little informative shortcuts that shouldn't exist. Maybe he and Ash could work together?

"You're assigned to the Beta quadrant. The _Impala_ is going to the Gamma quadrant," Pike continued smoothly and Kirk cursed. Other side of the galaxy. Definitely on purpose.

"And your people get a week's shore leave on Earth with the _Impala._ Unofficially? Well done and you have my personal thanks. I'll be telling Winchester the same thing, even if you two goons did goof my rescue."

Kirk gave his best boy-next-door smile. "Why sir, we weren't _rescuing_ you. You don't need rescuing, not ever. We were just there to save you the hassle of hijacking a Romulan ship!"

Pike laughed wholeheartedly and Kirk grinned as the screen snapped off. Pike needed to laugh more.

Maybe the _Enterprise_ and _Impala_ needed to stage an admiral intervention. You know, kidnap Pike properly, haul him off to a planet with beaches and drinks with umbrellas, pitch his communicator into the bowels of the _Enterprise_'s engineering bay and force Pike to get a tan.

Kirk liked this idea. He was pretty sure Winchester would too. He scribbled a note out on his PADD and sent the text message to the _Impala_.

They began plotting.

* * *

><p><em>Unknown planet…<em>

Kerlyn muttered darkly under his breath. He knew his remaining followers were worried that he was going insane. He wasn't worried. He knew he was already there, already insane. He could see clearly now, see clearly without the restriction of sanity, operate without boundaries, see the goal. He'd lost everything, everything, everything to those upstarts.

Pike, Kirk, Winchester.

Should have killed the brother, should have killed the admiral, should have killed the girl, should have plunged them all into deepest despair when he had the chance.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Failure. The word rang like a death knell in his head, gonging off the sides of his skull with reverberating pressure until he felt his brain would explode in a messy smear of stinking grey and green. Failure – that which true, great Romulans could not abide.

Failure.

He'd wait and plot and come again, again, again and take everything from them, their Federation, their ships, their Earth, their crews, their lives after they begged him for life, for mercy, for death.

And then he'd laugh, surrounded by fire and blood and pain, laugh and wreak havoc until the memory of his failure was nothing, ground into finest dust underfoot and poured as triumph into the foundation of his new glory.

_End of Part One_


	8. Winchester's Law

I do not own Supernatural or Star Trek 2009.

_Part 2_

* * *

><p><em>Six months after the conspiracy had been 'cleared up'...<em>

"Oh come on Sam, loosen up! It's practically a shore leave planet!"

And that's when Commander Sam Winchester of the USS _Impala_ knew the mission was doomed.

You see, Murphy's Law – the principle that if anything can go wrong, it will – should have been named Winchester's Law. Specifically Dean Winchester's Law. Perhaps if Sam was in a charitable mood, he might allow that the law be renamed Kirk-Winchester's Law, but the _Enterprise _was currently several thousand parsecs away and not pissing him off at this precise moment in time.

His captain, on the other hand, was much closer and more irritating.

Pretty ladies, fruit wine, an accomplished survey and first contact mission, everything was going swimmingly. Dean had let his crew go a bit. They'd had a monotonous couple of weeks and deserved the pseudo-shore leave.

And naturally one Sam Winchester was left as the designated transporter and shuttle pilot with a serious, unquantifiable case of the willies for no apparent reason.

Night fell, the food was good, booze plentiful, and the natives were friendly, speaking an early derivative of Standard, easily picked up by experienced crew.

Of course, that was when trouble struck.

Evidently the individual who didn't get totally hammered was the most viable candidate. Sam had finished herding his wayward crew back to the mass-transport site for beam up and was checking for any left-behind bits of technology when a soft 'thwip' sound and a quick sting had him slapping at his neck.

A small dart spun crazily in his hand and he swore bitterly before everything went black.

* * *

><p>Dean's hangover was pounding in his head like last night's huge bongo drums when the comm cheeped. "What?" he groaned, feeling more than just fruit wine in his mouth. By this point, he was pretty sure the wine had been drugged and Sammy was going to be unbearable for the next few days. Sam was probably mad, which was why Dean was still on the transporter room floor. There was no need for Sammy to be <em>that<em> pissy, no one had gotten hurt.

"Winchester. Winchester?"

Ugh, Dean must have drunk more than he'd thought. He could have sworn he heard Kirk calling his name, annoying bastard. Can't leave a guy to nurse a hangover in peace.

"Dean? Dean! Get with it, you jackass!"

"The hell, Kirk?"

"Dude, you are so drugged. Where's Sam?"

"Dunno, Sam? Sam, where are ya! Computer, find Sam!"

The cool voice of the computer woke Dean far more effectively than any detox medication or irritating _Enterprise_ captain. "Commander Winchester is not aboard this ship."

"What the fuck? Sammy!"

"Aw shit." Kirk's voice was troubled at best.

"Kirk, what do you know that we don't?" Dean demanded, very awake, very cranky and definitely kicking a stoned Ash several times before the navigator shook himself awake. Even Cas was a little worse for the wear, blinking blearily at the small transporter room screen. Which only confirmed Dean's theory about the drugging – Castiel had only sipped politely at a single cup of wine, claiming it too sweet and the kid could out-drink anyone on the ship except Bobby and Dean. Cas should be up and at 'em, not squinting like the lights were too bright.

"We've got an Andorian informant who'd just managed to escape the planet. His transport ship stopped in for water after their hydroponics quit and the entire crew was wined, dined, poisoned and then turned on each other through the use of psychotic drugs. Because the natives are a little under-developed for this sort of medical tight-roping, the victims can be overdosed or suffer adverse reactions." Kirk paused in sympathy as Dean clutched his head and groaned.

"Damn Sammy and his stupid Murphy's Law." He glanced around the transporter at his very useless (he had allowed an enemy to get them into that state, damn it) crew and swore. "Kirk, can I borrow an away team and Bones? Ellen will have her hands full."

"Hell yes Dean, you can borrow me and my best people. We'll get you sorted out, put a med-team on the _Impala _and start looking for Sam. _Enterprise_ to beam over ASAP."

Dean realized that he was blessed (not a word he used lightly or even really believed in on a regular basis) to have such good friends.

Then he puked all over the transporter room floor.

* * *

><p>Jim Kirk was a very angry captain.<p>

The Admiralty now knew this in excruciating detail and Kirk was probably going to be up for another one of those pesky reprimands.

He didn't give a damn.

He understood that the _Impala _walked into more than her fair share of crazy shit. And he grudgingly understood that most Constitution captains did not want to put their big, beautiful ships in the line of fire for a Miranda-class vessel that may or may not still exist by the time they fought through whatever crazy shit the _Impala_ had gotten herself into.

So when the Admiralty had asked the newly refitted _Constellation_ to go make sure the _Impala _wasn't tripped out on psychedelics, the captain had said no way in hell.

But Dean Winchester and his crew saved the Federation as regularly as Kirk did. They deserved saving. They also deserved decent intelligence, not this recurring "oops, would you look at that, we forgot to tell you about this planet/system/planetoid and (insert deadly action/situation of choice)!"

Kirk had promptly volunteered and refused to take no for an answer. _Constellation_ could go pretend to be a useless flagship at the diplomatic function. Hell, her captain might even succeed in being polite, polished and starched.

Kirk, on the other hand, was going to do real work and save his friends.

* * *

><p>His away team materialized in a miserable room. The <em>Impala<em>'s senior bridge crew was up but weaving woozily and everyone else was still on the floor suffering from severe drugging. "Bones, get Winchester functional ASAP. You're beaming down with us to find Sam. Med-team, get this mess sorted out. Scotty, can you sweep the planet for Sam's communicator?"

"Nae, capt'n. Planet's laced with deutronium and it's affectin' both transporter and sensors. Ye'll have to find him the auld way and bring him back to the transporter site."

"Of course we will. Thanks Scotty."

"Sorry sair."

Dean hadn't felt this shitty since the night he and Kirk had gone kegging back on Earth. He was too ill to even flinch when Bones stabbed him with no less than four hypos. The effects of said hypos though, were fairly immediate.

"Eat," Kirk said shortly and dropped a field ration kit into his lap.

"Captain, I want to come," Jo spoke up, even though her pupils were still dilated and she couldn't really walk straight.

"Absolutely _not_," Bones and Ellen chimed in chorus. "It hit you and Castiel the hardest. You're not going anywhere," Bones proclaimed and the firm set of his mouth told Jo she wasn't going to win this one. "You can sit here and standby to assist the captains."

Dean finished cramming reconstituted chicken into his mouth and stood. "Let's get moving. I have a brother to find."

* * *

><p>The jungle planet was strangely cheerful this morning, mist rising softly into the brightening sky, birds singing gloriously. Dean was grateful for the good weather (easy tracking) but at the same time it did not reflect well on his mood.<p>

Storming forward towards the site of last night's festivities, Dean was astounded to find the clearing empty. No benches, no low tables, even the fire pit was gone, as if it had never been. Spinning the centre of the clearing, Dean scowled. Even the grass was undisturbed. He was pretty sure the natives didn't have the kind of technology necessary to move great long heavy tables through the jungle without leaving some trace.

"Village?" Kirk asked.

"This way," Dean replied shortly.

Something about this situation was unsettling. Spock knew the captain would call it a bad feeling, an unquantifiable unease. On the contrary, Spock knew that both Vulcan and human senses were capable of subconsciously noticing small, important factors and adding them up to an appropriate conclusion. The only way to identify the root of the 'bad feeling' was to pay attention.

"Somethin' about this just ain't right," Bones commented beside him, Georgia accent thick with worry. "I don't know what it is, but I'm getting the creeps."

The doctor may be acerbic and sometimes illogical in his emotions, but he was highly observant, intuitive, intelligent and practical. To hear him voice concern only amplified Spock's poor first impression of the planet. He lifted a hanging vine out of the way, noticing that the captains were forging a bit far ahead.

A short cry had Bones and Spock hurrying ahead. Dean was still standing out in the open, peering into a bower of leaves and branches. "What do you see?" he called in as Spock actually felt the need to place a hand on his phaser.

"I've got a passageway going into the jungle," a muffled Kirk replied. Spock noticed the drag marks Kirk must have noticed in the first place. They were undoubtedly humanoid but too small to be Sam Winchester.

Suddenly Kirk shouted and Dean barreled into the bushes. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with this planet!" he roared, thrashing about. "Where the hell did Kirk go?"

Spock's bad feeling amplified.

* * *

><p>Kirk groaned. His head felt like a troupe of Danubians had been using it as a tap-dance floor.<p>

"You awake?"

Sam. That was Sam.

"I wish I wasn't."

A short laugh, pained and breathless. "Yeah, so do I."

Kirk cracked his eyes open and examined the situation. Their prison was an old structure, fashioned of rough stone stacked without mortar, but someone had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure the most effective security measures. Rusty iron bars crackled with electricity, cameras hung from the ceiling and the lock on the door was state of the art, which wouldn't be such a big problem if someone hadn't clearly known about Sam's escapist tendencies. The first officer was seated against the dank wall, wearing only an orange jumpsuit. All four limbs were chained equidistantly apart with shiny new manacles, leaving Sam spread-eagled in what could not be a terribly comfortable position.

On top of that, Sam looked like shit. His face was a rainbow of bruises, he wasn't sitting straight with broken ribs, his breathing was raspy and his unbruised skin a clammy fish-white.

"They expecting you to leave or something?" Kirk rasped, trying to inject humour into the situation, rattling his matching chains.

"Oh no. I just sit in prison for shits and giggles." Sam smirked wanly. "Don't try to dislocate your thumb. We're on camera and they'll shock the daylights out of you." That would explain the pallor of a normally tanned Winchester skin.

"Who are they and what do they want?" Kirk asked.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "As far as I can tell, they're human and definitely not native. My guess is that they've got the natives working for them. Oh, and they're big fans of drug experimentation. Prepare to hallucinate like crazy."

Jim's shoulders would have slumped if they could. "Yay."

* * *

><p>"You're not going to tell us where they are?" Dean Winchester asked in a very controlled, cold tone of voice, fists balled into weapons. Had Sam been present, he would have bundled his brother back onto the <em>Impala<em> immediately before Dean did something unbecoming a Starfleet captain.

Of course, the fact that Dean only ever got this pissed when Sam was missing put a cramp in the one plan that could have spared the native leader.

Well, Spock probably could have if he tried. But the Vulcan was not feeling very charitable at present. "Remember sir, we do need him to talk. Breaking his jaw would be imprudent."

"Noted, Spock."

McCoy held his tongue regarding the two loose cannons currently extracting information. He'd keep his calming influence for something more important than some native flunky willing to abduct friendly Starfleet personnel.

* * *

><p>Kirk was tempted to spill the contents of his stomach all over the prison floor but then he'd be sitting in it for who knows how long, which would just be nasty. And he got the impression he'd need all the nutrition he could get.<p>

His mind was spinning like a top and his senses were tangled. He hoped the hallucinations were over, that the whispering voice in his head was gone but when you still smell colours instead of seeing them, it just doesn't bode well for the state of one's brain.

Kirk shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Bad idea. The Danubian tap-dancers were back.

"All right?" Sam croaked. Sheesh, just like Bones, this one. Even when Sam felt like shit, he felt the need to check on others. Kirk grunted a yes and assessed Sam. Dean's brother looked worse than before, eyes bright and glassy, face pale under dark bruising.

"What'd you say to piss them off?" Kirk asked with a weak laugh, trying to keep the mood up.

Sam's head lolled on his neck and he blinked slowly. "They drug you three times," he said carefully, like his tongue was thick "and then they start telling you _things_. Things you know are wrong. She was telling me to-to-to kill D-dean and for a minute it felt _right_. That was when I told her there was no fucking way and she could go screw herself. She said I'd see the light soon enough, that there was always next time" Sam fell silent and Kirk suppressed a shiver.

It took a strong man to resist mind-altering drugs. The brain was a delicate instrument, easily warped and thrown awry.

That being said, whoever she was, she picked the wrong people to experiment on. Sam Winchester was as stubborn as a mule, especially regarding his brother and Jim Kirk just plain didn't like being told what to do. It was a matter of principle.

She wouldn't get into either of their heads if Captain James T. Kirk had anything to do with it.

Step one – encourage Sam.

Step two – piss off the bitch.

Step three – wait for Dean and Spock.

Step four – find popcorn to accompany the comedy that would be this witch meeting Dean and Spock.

Wait. Step four wasn't part of the plan. It'd be funny, but impractical. No popcorn on this planet. And it wouldn't be a comedy, it'd be a massacre. Popcorn wasn't appropriate for massacres; he'd need peanut M&M's instead and definitely enough to share with Sam.

Clearly the drugs were still fucking with his head.

He knew for sure when Sam started laughing raspily and Kirk realized he'd been listing his steps and the dialogue regarding step four aloud.

Sam's laughter disintegrated into hacking coughs which gradually subsided although a grin continued to hover around a pain-tightened mouth.

Sealing his lips shut, Kirk made absolutely sure step five wasn't said aloud – deflect abuse from Sam onto himself whenever possible.

* * *

><p>Dean barreled through the jungle at juggernaut speeds. Sam had now been missing for twelve hours, Kirk for four. The native leader had spilled the necessary information after Dean had threatened to start removing fingernails and neither <em>Enterprise <em>officer showed any sympathy or support for the poor alien.

According to the leader, a Federation-looking woman had shown up in a ship like theirs with a dozen or so men. They bought the old temple from the natives and paid them with drugs. The natives had decided to exercise their sadistic streak and tested the drugs on passing transports. The leader had started whining about how a group of men about three years back abused their hospitality and they were just trying to protect themselves.

Dean might have been sympathetic but they'd kidnapped his brother and turned him over to a sadistic bitch with a taste for mind-warping. Bones wasn't sympathetic at all, now or ever. Innocent men were dead. Spock remained deadly silent on the subject.

After leaving the camp, there had been some discussion about whether or not they should go back to _Enterprise _and get some security after discovering that their communicators didn't work courtesy of the same interference that had knocked out sensors and transporters.

Spock had been the one to say there wasn't enough time, that they should press forward. So they had moved out on their own and Dean was impressed. He knew Spock was in excellent shape, but for some reason McCoy had just never seemed like the athletic type, refusing to play team sports on shore leave and such. Yet here he was, matching Dean stride for stride.

Spock naturally spotted the temple first. There were several guards, but they were bored and lazy, easily avoided. The rescuers paused to regroup. "This is styled after Mesopotamian ziggurats," Dean mused. "The only place big enough to hold a research facility is at the top."

"That's an awfully exposed staircase," McCoy muttered as Dean squinted, calculating.

"Who said anything about taking the stairs?" he asked with a thin smirk.

* * *

><p>Kirk was pretty sure he'd managed to hit the witch in the eye hard enough to bruise before they'd strapped him down and zapped him full of something that burned his veins like acid and sent his head spinning.<p>

Now he was flat out on the damp floor, hoping the ceiling would stop swimming sometime soon. Or at least change the channel. He was getting really tired of the same six fish. They could at least be different colours. He didn't know why he was seeing fish, but he was pretty sure they weren't real and he was forgetting something really important.

Someone important.

Sam.

"Go away," he hissed to the fish and sat up slowly, feeling the universe tilt crazily. He was only chained by his foot now, far too ill to go anywhere far and he knew they knew he knew it. Figure that one out. While hallucinating.

Sam.

He had to focus.

Shit, Sam. Kirk's shoulders slumped. Sam wasn't even chained up anymore, staring glassily at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in a slow, hitching motion. "Sam? Sam, Sammy!" Kirk shook his shoulder gently, hoping to find Sam Winchester somewhere in this battered shell.

Glazed hazel eyes rolled over to gaze at Kirk.

"Hey dude, you in there? Two blinks yes, zero blinks no."

It took a minute but humour sparked and Sam blinked twice before his mouth fell open slackly. "D-didn't let her win," Sam whispered, making a Herculean effort. The bubbling wheeze in his breathing was definitely not good.

Carefully hoisting Sam up, Kirk managed to prop his torso up against the wall. The wheeze got a little better. "Thanks," Sam hissed painfully.

"Don't thank me until Dean shows up. I'm pretty pathetic, getting nabbed like that. Into an underground tunnel system at that. Did you know I'm seeing fish right now?"

There was an awkward shake of Sam's shoulders and Kirk leaned in close. "What?"

"God, you sound like my brother. Fish and all."

"Hey, those fish are scary sons of bitches." Kirk hoped channeling his inner Dean (much like his inner Kirk if he did say so himself) would help Sam stay that much more connected to reality. Because if Sam's trip was anything like Kirk's, reality was pretty subjective at the moment. Fish and all.

He sat shoulder to shoulder with the battered man. Soon Sam's head lolled against Kirk and his eyelids fluttered shut. It worried Kirk, but the relatively even rhythm of Sam's breathing was a little reassuring and God knew they'd need every bit of strength they could muster.

"Damn it Dean, Spock, you're taking too long. Hurry up."

* * *

><p>"Are you<em> insane<em>?" Bones hissed in a whispered shout.

"Actually, this course of action is quite logical, Doctor. The guards' line of sight is obscured and it is not a predictable route into the temple. It should also be remarkably efficient."

"Thanks, Spock," Dean said through the rope in his mouth, snapping a karabiner clip to the barbed harpoon head.

"All it takes is one phaser shot to the rope and we're all dead!"

"Isn't that usually how phasers set to kill work, Bones?"

The doctor stared at the captain and first officer in no small disgust. "If we end up dead, I am going to haunt both your asses for the rest of eternity."

"Ghost haunting a ghost, Bones, that's a little weird."

"The theory that human consciousness continues to exist after expiration has never been quantifiably proven, Doctor."

McCoy took a very large breath, exhaled slowly and hoisted up his medical pack. "It's the sentiment that counts, you assholes. Let's do this."

Dean took careful aim with the small, powerful pneumatic gun and shot, watching with satisfaction as the matte head and its long tail of rope arced out, latching onto the temple with tenacity. Taking in the slack of the rope, he patted the powerful small engine Spock had bolted into a tree.

"You always carry this stuff?" McCoy asked irritably, tightening the knot of the makeshift harness Dean had handed him.

"Actually, it's Sammy's pack. He always has the most random, useful shit I've ever seen. You don't wanna know what else is in there. Up ya go, Bones."

Despite the ziggurat being several hundred feet tall, it was the work of a minute to ride up. Spock was neutral about the whole experience, Dean focused forward on finding Sam and McCoy was absolutely sure they were going to be spotted and shot.

Luckily, the guards were too busy playing poker to notice three men being towed up the ziggurat like so many odd-coloured socks hung out to dry. The rope was left intact, just in case although Dean said he doubted they'd be able to ride it down.

Dean took point. The element of surprise worked admirably in their favour and they made it all the way in to an office before being pinned down. "McCoy, find me a map or something that tell us where Kirk and Sam are!" Dean barked as he and Spock held the doorway.

The doctor riffled quickly through the PADD on the desk before shouting in triumph, shoving the PADD into his bag. "They're in the last door on the right!"

Taking a few deep breaths, Dean nodded to Spock.

The quick charge was nerve-wracking, phaser-fire sizzling around their ears, smoke filling the corridor. Dean shot the lock on the last door several times and the three rescuers piled into small room, slamming it shut behind them. Spock, as the strongest, promptly braced his back against it.

McCoy had flown across the room and unlocked the bars, at Sam's side in an instant. "Dear God," he whispered.

"Hey Bones," Kirk slurred on the other side. "It's Bones, right, not a hal-hallucination, right? Say no, so I know you're a hallucination." McCoy raised an eyebrow at the rather incoherently sensible sentence. Definitely still drugged.

Dean was hovering in front of both prisoners, crouched down at eye-level. "Dumbass," he almost shouted, worry thick in his voice. "What the hell, Kirk? What were you thinking, getting caught like that?"

Kirk blinked slowly. His face was swollen, an eye swelled shut and blood trickled from his lip. Defensive wounds covered his hands and slashes showed through the bright command shirt, staining it an offensive orange-red. "Well, _you're_ not a hallucination. Only Dean Winchester makes that much noise."

"D'n?" Sam mumbled and everyone in the room froze.

"Hey little brother," Dean murmured, gently nudging McCoy out of the way. He turned Sam's battered face towards him, delighting in woozy, irritated hazel eyes glaring at him.

"You're…late, j'rk."


	9. Learning a Thing or Two

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p>Getting out of the prison had been a tricky proposition. Kirk volunteered to walk but couldn't make it out of the cell without weaving erratically. Eventually, McCoy had simply sedated him and told Spock that the first officer got the honour of carrying the captain piggy-back.<p>

The doctor was casting about for a stretcher so he and Dean could somehow perhaps fashion a travois for Sam when the eldest Winchester handed McCoy his phaser. "You're point. I'll carry him."

The steel in Dean's voice and eyes refused to let Bones argue. Silently, the doctor picked up the extra packs, discarded anything that looked superfluous and repacked the rest, picking up everyone's gear in one go.

"Open the front pocket of my pack," Dean ordered, carefully checking over McCoy's bandaging job on Sam. "There's a few flash-bangs in there. We should be able to clear the way with those."

Flash-bangs? Those were from the twentieth century. Why the hell was Dean Winchester carrying those? "They're adaptive and can be jury-rigged to do all sorts of shit, unlike the newer stuff," Dean grunted, hoisting his brother with infinite care.

"What, you're telepathic now?" McCoy growled, fishing out the flash-bangs. "Open the door, Spock."

The old tech did its job admirably well and they made a break for it, coughing on the gas and smoke.

As they sprinted past the last door before the exit, Dean spotted a woman standing bent over a desk in one of the offices, a shirt held over her mouth as she coughed and wheezed asthmatically. She was wearing a lab coat on her skeletally thin frame and old coke-bottle glasses only made her huge green eyes bigger, goggling venomously. The air of frustrated civilian command told the _Impala_'s captain everything he wanted to know.

This was the leader and if Dean didn't have severely injured people with him, she'd probably be dead. In that instant, he flashed her a heated, cruel smile that promised wicked retribution when they met again.

The stairs were dizzying, almost terrifying in their steep, small steps and infinite height. Dean had to wonder how short the natives once were as he place his feet carefully, ducking precariously as guards took notice. Crack shooting from Dr. McCoy covered them all the way into the jungle, where they vanished into the mist.

* * *

><p>Spock knew rationally that carrying a full-grown man such as Sam Winchester through four kilometres of rough, transporter-inhibiting jungle should be impossible for anyone except Spock himself and even then Spock would have chosen to put Sam over his shoulder instead of cradling him in his arms.<p>

Yet Dean Winchester never faltered, never stumbled, never jostled his brother. The exertion required was evident in the strain on his face, the quivering of a muscular back, a gold command shirt plastered to taut skin with sweat. The physical pain of limbs screaming at him, weighed down in what would feel like tense mud, should have stopped him, should have brought the human to his knees.

Should have, Spock was continually learning, did not apply to the humans he chose to associate with.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean set his twitching brother down gently as the party paused. Sam seemed to be surfacing back to the real world.

McCoy was immediately registering any type of response, tricorder whirring away as Spock checked on his captain. Kirk was still out of it, flopped all over Spock's back like a rag-doll.

"Dean…it's really you? I feel funny," Sam slurred. "She tried…tried…tried to tell me it was a good idea to kill you."

Bright, suddenly lucid eyes focused on Dean. "I told her to go to hell."

Dean laughed, but there might have been a small sob in there somewhere. "That's my boy."

"Yep, no matter how she tried to c-convince me, I told her a-absolutely fucking not."

"Damn straight. I'm too awesome to die. So are you."

McCoy looked worried as Sam slumped back into unconsciousness. "He needs to be in sickbay. They both do. We have to keep moving."

Crashing sounds of pursuit reverberating through the forest only reinforced the need. The only good thing about their situation was that there was no way for the enemy to gain an edge over them – the jungle was too thick for shuttles and transporters useless.

Dean hoisted his brother up again. "Let's move."

It became a race against enemy, time and jungle, discarded equipment littering their wake as the Federation officers picked up the pace. Dean eventually conceded that he needed Sam to shift positions to Dean's back in order for Dean to run. By that time, they had only minutes to spare, a thin buffer of safety between hunters and hunted.

Phaser fire was singing the greenery around them when their communicators finally sprang to life. "_Enterprise _standing by to beam up!" Scotty bellowed as the communicators connected for the first time in hours.

"NOW!" Dean roared as he spun to shield his brother and McCoy swore, picking off pursuers without mercy, stopping only when the swirling lights of the transporter whisked them to safety.

* * *

><p>"Boze moi," Chekov breathed, eyes wide at the bloodstained group on the transporter pad. Scotty jerked him out of his seat and into an out of the way corner as the room flooded with essential personnel.<p>

"CHAPEL!" Bones bellowed as medics swarmed the injured. "Get M'Benga down here and working on Jim. I need you on Sam, stat! Move people, move!"

"Commander Spock, there is a transmission coming in from the Intelligence Office," Uhura reported over the comm.

"Understood, Lieutenant-Commander. Captain Winchester, if you would accompany me?"

Dean started, trapped in the strange limbo state of someone who needed to always be doing something and suddenly found himself at loose ends. With a quick self-shake and a nod, he headed for the door.

To every passing crew member's sad amusement, Dean took the lead, Spock one step behind, both falling into routine effortlessly, unconsciously drawing support from familiarity in a disjointed sort of way – Dean's walk was closer to a swagger than Kirk's and Spock orbited his captain more tightly than Sam, who usually had half his brain off on some new experiment, theory or tangent but the similarity was there.

* * *

><p>Captain Winchester glared at the grinning fool on the screen. "Supervisory Intelligence Officer Gabriel, there is absolutely <em>nothing<em> amusing about this situation. Wipe that inappropriate expression off your face right frigging now or this conversation is _over_."

Compliantly, the cheerful IO struggled to wrest his face into something more neutral. "Now," Winchester growled, "care to explain why exactly Starfleet Intelligence didn't see fit to inform the _Impala _of the potential dangers regarding this planet before we left?"

"Actually before we discuss that, I have a mission for – " Gabriel froze. He was pretty sure neither Winchester nor Spock could reach through the screen and strangle him where he stood but at this moment in time testing the theory didn't seem like a very good idea.

"_You will explain. Now_." Spock spoke for the first time, each word loaded with the deadly cold of hard vacuum.

"Shit," the IO sighed. "Fine. Look, after the peace summit fiasco, we thought Reuter was working alone. You know, Chandra's secretary? Well, intelligence is suggesting now that he wasn't working by himself. The information's only coming forward now as we realize there are more and more holes in our intelligence network. The _Impala_ fell through one of our rather larger holes. Honestly Captain Winchester, no competent IO at Starfleet would have screwed you over like that, even if you are an arrogant ass. Right now, I don't know who to trust or even what information is solid. Hell, you think the admirals run around like headless chickens? Imagine a bunch of non-regulation, A-type personalities who answer to almost no one and spend their entire lives living in the shadows. They've only just realized that the shadows they've always controlled are suddenly running amok. At least the admirals know that out in space, things occasionally go FUBAR and there's nothing you can do about it. My superiors are having meltdowns all over the place because their ducks aren't lined up nice and neat, quacking in time to their waving.

So when I said I had a mission for you two, it was really quite simple. I need you to hunt down the bitch who just kidnapped Captain Kirk and Commander Winchester, interrogate her at all costs and then bring her in alive if you can. I can trust you two because you're personally involved - you'll bring her in if only to make her life miserable. Pike has reluctantly okayed this little trip and says to remind you that you're not assassins and he will be disappointed if he finds out you've eviscerated the scientist. What solid information I have on her and her connections is on your PADD, Winchester. You have authorization from Starfleet to pick an infiltration crew from both _Enterprise _and _Impala, _leave the injured in orbit to recuperate and take the _Impala_ for the hunt. You'll probably run into me somewhere along the way because I'm heading out into the field myself. Comprendez?"

"Understood."

Supervisory Intelligence Officer Gabriel was a stone-cold, experienced spy and damn good at what he did. He had excellent preservation instincts, essential in his line of work, but he was rarely actually afraid these days.

And he wasn't afraid of Captain Dean Winchester or Commander Spock, but only because he hadn't been the idiot to touch the people closest to them.

If he _had_ been said idiot, he would be making for the nearest black hole at warp ten and pulling it in after him.

Just saying.

* * *

><p>Dean gritted his teeth and stared out at the <em>Impala <em>from _Enterprise_'s observation deck, thinking furiously. Ash had reported a strangely fast, nondescript shuttle making a break for it. Jo had ordered pursuit, but it cloaked and went to warp.

Gabriel's folder of information was merely a trail of breadcrumbs, a sketch of a personality that should never have been allowed to work for the Federation.

Dr. Alice Gain was a brilliant scientist who had managed to graduate from a distinguished Earth university as a respected virologist, regarded as a prodigy in her field. However, six months into her first job, she had been fired for unethical experimentation on both sentient and non-sentient beings. There had been a short string of employers, none of whom could satisfactorily control the doctor's immoral activities. Starfleet had hired her because her work with cures for viruses was unparalleled, but it quickly became evident Gain would rather tinker with the viruses themselves, effects on sentient beings be damned. Her final bid for fame before sinking into the obscure, murky world of the unemployed was the designer virus Dean himself had pitched into a sun. After a thorough Starfleet investigation was launched into the ethics of the research taking place, Dr. Gain had vanished from the world.

IO hadn't actually found the men who had caused Gain to be hired by Starfleet in the first place. Their motives were unknown – did they want to bring the Federation down or were they just another group of well-organized redneck purists?

And now Gain, the link to these unethical bastards, had resurfaced and was getting further away by the second.

"Captain," Spock announced his presence discreetly.

"I need a first officer," Dean remarked almost casually.

"To secure Dr. Gain in custody would be the most efficient method of ensuring Captain Kirk and Commander Winchester's continued safety, to say nothing of the benefits the Federation would reap."

"Follow me into hell?"

"I do not believe we are going anywhere near the mythological Earth equivalent of eternal torment for the wicked, Captain. However, I have been known to demonstrate exceptional tenacity when correctly motivated."

"Excellent. We leave in twenty."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Scott, you have command of the <em>Enterprise<em> until the captain returns to consciousness. I would suggest concealing the ship's presence and standing by until Starfleet issues orders. Lieutenant-Commander Uhura may find it prudent to experience communications failure to ensure that Starfleet is unable to send an inferior replacement for the captain. Any questions at this time?"

The _Enterprise_'s disappointed bridge crew murmured a negative. As always, Spock's orders were concise and clear. "Ser," Chekov tried, "I could be of assistance."

"Mr. Chekov," Spock replied, almost gently. "I will not be present to support Captain Kirk in his endeavour to rendezvous with the _Impala_, especially should the _Impala _encounter difficulties in pursuit. The captain will need each of you and so will Commander Winchester. That is all."

The disgruntled Russian subsided and Spock took the opportunity to exit the bridge. The crew's loyalty was commendable and he was certain that they would hold to the designated course, no matter how it may irk them.

This left him free to hunt down the unfortunate animal that had mistakenly thought it prudent to assault and torture his captain.

* * *

><p>Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy had been having a very bad day.<p>

He sank into the chair between his patients' beds and considered just passing out where he sat. But he never could shake the feeling that the monitoring machines, while tuned to his rigid, exacting standards, never did as good a job as plain old human watchfulness. So he pulled out a PADD and reviewed the patient stats yet again, adding in new information.

The last time a day had gone this poorly had been the attack of the _Narada_, when he had been so rudely thrust into the CMO's position.

On the upside, Jim was already responding to medical care. He should be up and about on light duty in forty eight hours.

Sam Winchester, though.

The man was tough and McCoy was exceedingly grateful for that. In peak physical condition, thankfully not allergic to everything under the sun (damn Kirk) and he had a fighting spirit that wouldn't let him die. Sam had been very ill and severely injured when he arrived on the _Enterprise_ in his brother's arms.

McCoy had offered to let Ellen take over Sam's care, but she'd said no. He was the better surgeon and they didn't need her diagnostic talents. That and both CMOs were pretty sure Dean Winchester was about to do something stupid and quite frankly while Bones could put the fear of a doctor into Dean effectively enough, Ellen Harvelle had Winchester-wrangling down to an art form.

Speak of the devil.

Captain Dean Winchester looked like death warmed over, but he moved easily enough to Sam's bed side. "How is he?"

"On the mend and out of danger. He should be up and about in two days or so, on light duty in four. Jim will be running around inside of two days. They'll both make it." McCoy saw no reason to sugar coat anything, not even good news.

Dean's confident captain's posture slumped, melting into worried big brother, complete with hunched shoulders and wrinkled forehead. McCoy stood and booted the chair over. "Sit down before you fall down. Spock will be in to ask the same question about Jim, so he won't leave without you."

Dean complied and McCoy took the opportunity to stab the idiot with a vitamin booster and a further dose of drug-neutralizer, just in case. "Ow, the fuck! I thought only Ellen jabbed like that! What is it, a CMO requirement?"

"Don't be such a child. And that's classified information." McCoy growled, handing the stubborn mule of a captain a plate of food. "Eat that before you faint."

"Hey, I do not faint!"

"You haven't yet, but if you do, I'll leave your ass on the floor just so you have proof when you come around."

The verbal sparring was interrupted by a very muzzy "D'n?"

"Damn it Sam, you shouldn't be awake yet!" McCoy grumbled but didn't move to up the sedative as Dean set his plate down and planted himself in the chair beside his brother.

"Yeah dude, I'm here. You're on the _Enterprise_. Almost gave Bones here a heart attack when you tried to die on him."

"Water."

"Demanding little bitch, aren'tcha?" Dean spooned an ice chip for Sam. "Better?"

"Jerk."

"Yeah, yeah, you love me."

"You two sure you aren't married?" Kirk croaked from the next bed. A chip of ice pinged off his nose, flung by an irritated Dean as Sam glared weakly.

"My god, I'm surrounded by idiots," McCoy muttered. "None of you, Dean included, should be awake. Jim, do _not_ try to get out of bed or I swear I will…" threatening to drug the captain was in very poor taste at the moment, "tell Spock what happened to that boxy-stringed-instrument-thing of his you broke and sort of fixed."

Kirk gulped and meekly slid his legs back to the centre of the bed. "Yes, Bones."

"Actually Doctor, I was aware of the culprit approximately twenty minutes after the instrument was returned to me."

McCoy had to resist the urge to jump and squeak like a girl. The damned hobgoblin moved like a ghost when he wanted to.

"I am glad to see both of you awake, Jim, Sam. Captain Winchester, we must be going. Commander Ash tells me that we will lose the trail in half an hour."

Dean quailed under two burning glares. "Going somewhere with my first officer?" Kirk asked casually.

"We're taking the _Impala_ to hunt down the witch. You are going to stay here until McCoy clears you for duty."

"I am?" There was a dangerous edge to Kirk's voice and Dean paused, realizing who he was talking to.

Backpedalling smoothly, he pointedly checked out Kirk's physical state and then his brother's. "Kirk, I'm leaving Sam with you."

"Hey, I am not some kid you can just ditch when…when…Imma comin' wi' you…" Sam's eyelids fluttered and Dean nodded knowingly with a relieved grin as Kirk settled down, conceding Dean's point while Sam slipped back into la-la land.

"Jim, whether or not you like it, you're not capable of coming with us right now. On the flip side, I can't afford to just forget the fact that my brother and first officer is…yeah. I need to leave him with someone I trust. I trust you. I trust the people under you. Hell, you're probably going to have to pull us out of whatever hole we dig trying to find this Dr. Alice Gain. IO's being very helpful and that bodes well for no one. This conspiracy thing probably means we can trust our bridge crews and Pike. End of story."

"I concur with Captain Winchester, Jim."

Kirk groaned, shifted, flinched and acquiesced poorly. "Fine, but _Enterprise _is going to chase after you in thirty six hours. No ifs, ands, buts or you-should-still-be-in-beds, got it?"

McCoy huffed but held his tongue. Everyone who had been on one of the _Impala_-_Enterprise_ shit-fests masquerading as missions knew that the best way to keep the two trouble-magnet ships out of trouble was to keep the two ships within reach of each other. No other ship in the Fleet could keep up, cover backs and improvise on the fly like _Enterprise _or _Impala._

Dean grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Let Sammy help, yeah? Otherwise he starts climbing the walls and turning into a worrywart girl. More than normal, anyway. Come on Spock. Catch up quick, Jim." The infirmary doors swished shut behind the two avengers and several ensigns skipped out the inexorable captain's way, startled by the very cold smile of unholy glee stretching across Dean Winchester's face. The expression was matched by a deadly glint in Spock's eyes.

"We're going on a witch-hunt."


	10. Parasite Problems

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p><em>48 hours after Impala's departure…<em>

"Keptin," a very timid Russian navigation officer ventured as he slipped into the infirmary, trying to ignore the death-glare levelled at his head via the CMO.

"What is it, Mr. Chekov?"

"Ser, IO Walker wishes to come aboard."

"What? Why?"

"He vill not say, ser."

Kirk glanced over at his interim first officer, who shrugged over their board of 3-D checkers. "The man's a career parasite. Whatever he's here for, it can't be good," Sam volunteered, brilliant black eye faded to greenish bruising. He looked much better, ribs healing nicely, cuts sealed up, drug-free. McCoy had had a hard time of making sure the experimental drugs were flushed from both Kirk and Sam's systems. He was still puzzling out how exactly Kirk had avoided a catastrophic anaphylactic episode with all the odd agents swimming around in his bloodstream.

"Well, First Officer Winchester, care to join me in this little jaunt?"

"Certainly, Captain Kirk."

Dr. McCoy was not happy about it but couldn't really protest after Sam very sincerely promised to make sure that Captain Kirk didn't strain himself and absolutely they'd come back to the infirmary right away if Sam noticed anything strange in himself or Captain Kirk.

So the infirmary doors swished shut behind them and Kirk turned to Sam in no slight awe. "You have strange and effective persuasive powers, my friend."

Sam grinned, bright and blindingly (deceptively) innocent.

* * *

><p>Intelligence Officer Gordon Walker was very self-important, dapper and annoying. He could be very charming, but only when he stood to gain something. Thus, when Kirk walked in on the IO trying to schmooze one of Kirk's shyer scientists and making her very uncomfortable, the captain had to tamp down the strong urge to space the man. No one messed with his crew, especially IO. And Walker couldn't want anything good from the ensign and Kirk was pretty sure she knew it. "Ensign O'Malley," Kirk barked and she snapped to relieved attention. "I believe the rest of your experiment on minor transporter anomalies can be conducted in the lab. Dismissed."<p>

She practically skittered out of the room after a quick liberated salute as Kirk turned an irritated frown on the IO. "I assume you have a reason for being here?" he asked coldly. Sam was impressed with Kirk's restraint. Dean would have just told the bastard to take his smarmy ass back up onto the transporter pad and do the world a favour by losing his transporter pattern in the buffer on his way back.

Walker handed over a small PADD with a scowl and rather rudely asked "Was that really necessary? Winchester, come on." There was a pause.

"Come on what?" Sam asked curiously.

"You're not feeling a change of heart?"

"About what, exactly?" Sam demanded, very confused.

"Your…position."

Sam raised a bewildered eyebrow. "I'm heading back to the _Impala_ as soon as we meet up with her, so no. The _Enterprise_ position is only temporary."

Walker looked startled, which was more than a little odd, causing Kirk to briefly glance up at Walker as Sam loomed over his shoulder, confused and irritated with the IO. Walker opened his mouth again and Sam cut him off with no room for disagreement. "You were attempting to interfere with the workings of a Starfleet ship. And it is the prerogative of the captain to know why you are aboard his ship. No change of heart or position is necessary."

After that, Walker silently fidgeted until Kirk handed the PADD over to Sam, who skipped through its contents quickly. His eyebrows knit in a frown. "This is accurate?" Sam demanded.

Walker bristled in indignation. "Of course it's accurate."

"If you'll excuse us," Sam almost blurted and tipped a head towards the door. Obligingly, Kirk stepped outside. Immediately words spilled from the first officer.

"Sir, Dean and Spock wouldn't do this. They were pissed but in control when they left and they wouldn't lose that advantage. Additionally, the _Impala_'s crew would have stopped them." Sam's earnest face had Kirk blinking. He thought he had seen the phenomena known as puppy-eyes prior to this point.

Obviously he was mistaken.

He understood the danger now because Sam Winchester was gazing worriedly at Kirk with all his might, earnestness in every line of his body. The expression should have been ridiculous on a man of Sam's size, experience and calibre but managed to express itself appropriately as genuine, heart-felt concern and suddenly Kirk wanted to help Sam fix the problem (not that he was going to ignore it in the first place – Dean and Spock were his friends).

Rubbing his face with his hands, Kirk bought himself a little time to formulate his thoughts, since his brain was racing furiously. "Of course they wouldn't do something this stupid," he mumbled. "Winchester said he'd been contacted by IO and they were being helpful, he was already suspicious of them. It makes no sense that they'd disintegrate another Miranda-class ship unprovoked. There's no reason for it. Yet this information," tapping the PADD, "says they have definitive proof. I find it very convenient that there were no eye-witness survivors, yet they managed to get this nice little clip of the _Impala_ firing upon an ally. I totally trust Dean and Spock over that IO bastard. Still, we can't ignore the 'evidence' he's presented. If it's true, we definitely do not have the whole story and we need to get it before the _Impala_ gets herself into even more hot water. If it's not true, there is a massive leak in IO and/or Walker is the leak and we have him aboard our ship where he can do less damage. If he's _not_ the leak, we need to find it."

Sam's big shoulders collapsed in on themselves with relief and Kirk scoffed. "You seriously thought I'd hang both of them out to dry?"

"What? No! I just…I worry. About everything. It's what I do. It drives Dean nuts."

Kirk grinned. "Well, don't. Worry, that is. I have a fantastic plan."

"Oh hell."

Kirk laughed aloud. It was kind of fun to have a first officer who bluntly voiced what Spock usually communicated through almost invisible facial movements.

* * *

><p><em>At the same time…<em>

"Well isn't this just _peachy_."

"I do not believe this situation resembles fruit, captain."

Dean snorted in amusement. Anyone who said Spock didn't have a sense of humour had clearly misplaced their own funny bone. Spock's humour was dry and very subtle, definitely less obvious than Sam's, but quite healthy and very sharp.

"Any leads on where she might have gone on the planet?"

"No sir."

"Ugh. Great. All we have is an empty, illegal shuttle and a toasted Miranda-class ship with no survivors. Romulan work, judging from the disruptor pattern, am I right Spock?"

"You are correct, captain." And there was no way to get Spock to call him Dean while they were on duty. Captain, captain, captain, it was enough to drive a man nuts.

They were orbiting above a Starfleet prison planet that produced raw ore, hiding from both Starfleet and enemies behind several mined barges and transport ships littering space, meant to act as a final line of defence. Enemies wouldn't dare slip in after the _Impala_ to chase her because Castiel was a piloting wizard and that was the only reason they were still in one piece.

More to the point, the prison planet wasn't answering hails. It was suspicious as hell, especially considering that Dr. Gain had made a beeline for this particular planet, not bothering (or knowing how) to hide her trail. So the _Impala_ was lurking, weighing whether or not to go in guns blazing, wait an extra twenty four hours for the _Enterprise _to show up with more men and bigger weapons or just plain wait to see if bigger fish than Dr. Gain showed up to collect their wayward scientist.

The decision was made for them.

"Sir! Incoming Romulan warbird!"

"Son of a bitch! Shields up, red alert!"

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Ser, de_ Impala_ said dey vould be vaiting for us at Theta 34-C, de prison planet."

Kirk scowled at the view screen, ignoring the IO gremlin lurking over his shoulder. Cupcake had already sent a discreet report over, stating that yes, Walker was wearing a wire and Security could jam it at any time. If Security couldn't jam it, an irritated Sam definitely would.

"All right. Sulu, lay in a course for Theta 34-C at warp 7. ETA?"

"Three hours, sir."

"Excellent. You have the conn. Winchester, with me. Walker, stay put and don't touch anything."

Safely inside his ready room, Kirk flipped on the little jammer Cupcake had thoughtfully left on the table. "I can't assign Chekov to hack Walker's recent activities because that would be far too obvious – he's the first person any investigation would seize. Can you look into it?"

Sam grinned with no small amount of evil anticipation. "I'm a scientist. Research is my specialty."

"Excellent. You have three hours. Find me something that can put him in the brig. If not, we'll have to go with my fantastic idea."

"Got it."

_Two and a half hours later…_

Researching Walker was almost too easy. The man clearly had an inflated opinion of his master spy abilities because Sam's decent (but not Chekov/Ash-level) hacking skills had made quick work of his defenses, quickly finding a 'hidden' history with a planet renowned for its xenophobia. Sam and Dean had thought Gain's escape from Starfleet inquiry had been a bit suspect and now Sam was staring at proof. Walker didn't like anyone that wasn't human and he was willing to go to very great lengths to ensure humanity ruled the galaxy. "Geez, he's not even a good spy," Sam grumbled, sending the information to Kirk's PADD. "Better make sure he's still on the ship."

Hoisting himself out of his chair, Sam paused as his ribs reminded him he was still putting himself back together. Padding off to Walker's assigned quarters, Sam reminded his ribs that he had work to do, so they could get over it.

Walker wasn't in his quarters and neither was his _Enterprise_ security shadow. "Computer, locate Lieutenant Cutler."

"Lieutenant Cutler is in the shuttle bay."

What the hell? Sam tapped his comm. "Cutler, come in please."

Nothing.

Shit.

"Captain, we may have a problem," Sam snapped, barrelling for the shuttle bay at top speed.

"Unauthorized shuttle bay depressurization. Unauthorized shuttle bay depressurization." The claxons began whooping and Sam swore again, picking up the pace. If Cutler was in the bay when Walker opened the force field, he would be dead.

Luckily, the lieutenant was alive, slumped just inside the sealed double doors leading in with a rather large knot on his head bleeding freely and on closer inspection, a tiny dart sticking out of his hand.

Sulu and Chekov would stop Walker and the shuttle. "Cutler. Cutler, wake up." Sam tapped the man's face gently. "Cutler, talk to me. Medic!" he bellowed and an ensign working around the corner jumped to it, clearly aghast that she hadn't noticed a thing.

The lieutenant groaned. "Sir?" he slurred. "Sir, Walker, he, he – "

"I know Cutler. He got you with a sedative and clocked you over the head. It's not your fault. Chekov and Sulu are chasing him down now."

Cutler grabbed Sam's wrist, stopping the first officer from prodding the bump "No sir, he took something from the labs with him."

Sam blinked. "Which lab?"

"He didn't say."

"What?" Sam was confused.

"He said since the doctor had failed at messing with your head, he was going to just take the virus and said thanks for enabling him. I didn't let him see or do anything, though it is possible he duped me or the lieutenant-commander I relieved. He's IO after all. He seemed pretty proud of himself."

"Messing with my head?" Sam paused. The weirdo conversation in the transporter room. Some of those words must have been a key to snap the brainwashing into place. Sam hadn't even noticed, but now that he thought about it, Walker was definitely expecting Sam to react in a certain manner. Ha. It'd take more than drugs to convince him to kill his brother and turn against Starfleet. Some witch and her IO dog had no chance. Back on topic. "The virus?" Sam tapped his comm again. "Kirk, did you keep anything on that virus from the _Tamir _incident?"

"No," Kirk replied shortly. "Busy at the moment, Winchester. Chasing this asshole. Call back in a minute." The medic team arrived and Sam saw Cutler off, still very confused. Thanks for the virus?

Running a quick search of the uber-organized science department turned up one item from the _Enterprise_'s first mission with the _Impala_. Spock had kept a PADD on antidotes to examine and possibly produce but hadn't gotten around to actually studying the thing. Thankfully, the _Enterprise_'s first officer kept copies of everything and Sam was soon skipping through the work, looking for something specific.

"Shit," he realized quickly.

"What?" Kirk demanded from behind him. "Walker got away, slippery bastard. Dodged into an asteroid belt that even the _Impala_ wouldn't brave. We could send shuttles after him, but our sensors would be blind and unless you have something dire, it's not worth it."

Sam laughed bleakly. "I have something dire. Jim, this little book on antidotes that Spock kept? It's Gain's original record of the virus in code. She was paranoid, probably planned for something like the Starfleet inquiry. We didn't manage to eradicate her work and now the virus is out. Walker's got the whole damned formula. All she has to do is spend twenty minutes tweaking the thing in a lab and our current antidotes are useless. As soon as they meet up, it's in production again. Both Gain and Walker have reason to be pissed at the entire galaxy by this point – they could target the Federation, Romulans, Klingons, you name it. If they do it right, they could turn all of us on each other."

Kirk paced for a minute. "Uhura, hail the _Impala_."

Pause.

"Uhura?"

"Sir, I can't connect with the _Impala! _She's not responding to our calls!"

The captain and first officer exchanged a worried glance and bolted for the bridge.

* * *

><p><em>Theta 34-C – twenty minutes later…<em>

Kirk had pushed his ship to her considerable limits to reach Theta 34-C as fast as possible.

They dropped out of warp and Sam had to swallow hard. A debris field approximately the mass of the _Impala_ scattered space in front of them and a hulking Romulan war bird floated menacingly above the field of triumph.

"Hail that ship," Kirk gritted out. "Red alert."

"Sir," Sam murmured in his taming-Dean voice, just as worried as the captain. But if Kirk went in guns blazing, the Romulans would respond in kind and they wouldn't get anywhere at all – no information, only disruptor fire.

"Understood, Commander," Kirk replied tightly as his face smoothed out. "Run me a scan and tell me if that's the _Impala._"

Sam's fingers flew over his console and when the well-tuned machine spit out sympathetic results a second later, Sam almost fell out of his chair in thankful disbelief. Damn tricky, tricky Spock and his devious big brother. That was too close for comfort. He shook his head at the captain, whose shoulders loosened just that bit, in time to change his face from force-frozen neutral to mildly irritated.

The Romulan commander looked highly pleased with himself, but almost everyone on the bridge relaxed, even those who had missed the little science officer-captain exchange. The knots on the commander's uniform were that of a milk-mission captain. Sam had to stifle a chuckle at the pretentious Romulan as Chekov and Sulu slumped from battle-ready to simple at-attention. Uhura almost sighed in relief. The Romulan ship was nice and new, so new that everyone could practically smell the leather squeaking under the pilots' derrières. Green, green as the _Enterprise_'s crew had been for all of an hour before the _Narada_ beat it out of them.

This Romulan ship couldn't have taken one of the _Impala_'s shuttles, let alone Dean, Spock and the _Impala_ in a pissy mood.

Still, the Romulan gloated with sharp, white teeth and bright, excited eyes. "I destroyed the _Impala!_" The commander looked inordinately pleased with himself.

Kirk was appropriately incredulous, expressing the entire bridge crew's opinion. "Bullshit."


	11. The Art of Restraint

__I do not own Supernatural or Star Trek 2009.

* * *

><p><em>Theta 34-C – Enterprise<em>

"Well," Kirk allowed. "That went smoothly."

The Romulan ship had surrendered as soon as the _Enterprise_ had marked up their pretty paint. Evidently the Romulans were out on a shakedown cruise and were being babysat by their big cousin, who had been pointedly missing in action when the newbies had arrived on the scene ten minutes before _Enterprise_.

Upon further inspection of some planted 'evidence' stating the destroyed ship had been the _Impala_, the new commander had seized upon the opportunity and was going to take credit when the _Enterprise_ had arrived and promptly scared the pants off the young crew. Bluffing against Captain Kirk was never a good idea.

Now _Enterprise_ had a pretty new warbird under her thumb and a brig full of young, apprehensive commanders and older, experienced, very angry crew members. Which still begged the question – where was the _Impala_ and her crew? Sam had confirmed that the debris was indeed not the _Impala_, but rather from one of her shuttles and a busted up old barge, but that still didn't provide many answers.

"This is a prison planet," Kirk commented. "Why haven't we been hailed by the Starfleet personnel running the place?"

"Sir, this is where Vern was being held," Sam volunteered, frowning at the console. "He would have the command experience and brutality necessary to hold sway over the criminals housed on planet."

"Ser!" Chekov burst out. "I hev found de _Impala_!"

"Hail them," Kirk ordered as excitement ran electric through the bridge.

Uhura shook her head. "There's some sort of interference sir, and they're not answering on the experimental channels."

"If I had to guess," Sam mused, fiddling with his arrays again, "I'd say the _Impala_ has been ordered to keep communication silence. Probably to keep the Federation from finding them. Dean has been warned about trusting the wrong Federation officers, he'll keep the _Impala_ safe and quiet. He's probably down on the surface. I don't know why he's down there, but I'd wager Romulan ale that's where he is."

Kirk settled into his chair, thinking.

"Winchester, what are the chances of this evil doctor lady choosing this planet at random?"

"Nil, sir."

"Right. So Walker will most likely show up here sooner or later."

"A logical conclusion."

"And this is the closest we're currently going to get to their leader without more intel. Sulu, Chekov, work out a place to hide the _Enterprise_. We'll play the waiting game."

* * *

><p><em>Theta 34-C – Surface<em>

"Captain, I understand the need to be discreet. However, my current attire is straying dangerously close to ridiculous." Spock sounded ever so slightly miffed.

Dean grinned toothily, plucking at his own prison rags. The Vulcan looked much like an indignant wet cat trying to maintain some sort of dignity. "Come on Spock, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Vulcans do not promote such a rash, useless, illogical 'sense.' It does not seem prudent."

Oh yeah. The Vulcan was not happy.

It wasn't Dean's fault Spock looked like jailbait in the ripped, tattered jumper. Dean blamed the haircut – too perfectly trimmed and Dean had forgotten to suggest that Spock spike it up into the Goth/punk look he used when out with Sam.

Dean was sorry he didn't have a tricorder. Jim would kill for footage like this.

In comparison, Jo looked happy as a clam and scarier than most Klingons, knife handles peeking out of sashes, pockets, hair, neck, boot tops and sleeves. Her security crew had immediately latched onto the usually terrifying first officer and plopped him in the middle of their group. Not that Spock needed the protection. But if he ripped some criminal a literal new one using textbook-perfect Vulcan hand-to-hand, their cover would blown wide open.

"Let's go find us a witch," Dean announced cheerily, leading the group out from a clump of bushes where Bobby had thoughtfully put them down after hacking through Starfleet's transporter inhibitor.

Slipping into the prison like he owned the place wasn't hard. His security chief took her place as 2IC with aplomb, glaring at everyone who dared look at the group twice. "Hey, how's it going?" Dean asked with a grin, sidling up to another gang leader.

The ugly, gap-toothed man returned the expression. "Great! We finished toasting all those Starfleet pansies and the lady's in charge now. She's promisin' to let us loose on the Federation as soon as a ship we can hijack shows up."

Well shit.

"You didn't know?" the gangster was continuing. "What, you in solitary or something?" Dean snapped back to the conversation.

"Yeah. Apparently they take poorly to an honest fist-to-fist discussion between men around here. Just got out, picked up my boys and wondered why the hell my door swung open all on its lonesome." The gang leader looked suitably impressed with Dean's bravado. "Hey, where can a man find this lady?"

The gang leader shrugged. "Starfleet HQ. Don't know why you'd wanna go though. She's just gonna beam everybody up when the ship shows up. Until then, we get plastered!" He raised a bottle and chugged to the cheers of the prisoners around him.

Clearly they'd broken into the supplies and while there was a party going on in Dean's corner of the world, screams were rising from other sections of even this medium security wing.

He didn't want to think about the maximum security area. In interests of moving quickly, they got into a small squabble with another gang over a hover-truck, beat their opponents soundly and rattled away happily, the three security officers bouncing around in the back.

Theta 34-C's Starfleet Detainment HQ was a tragic sight. Personnel littered the steps, several torn apart limb from limb instead of simply killed by phaser. Angry prisoners had taken out their frustration and imprisonment on their guards and it showed.

Stalking up the stairs, Dean was surprised to hear a "Psst!" Glancing sideways, he spotted a pair of twinkling eyes and had to swallow the reflexive urge to throttle the impertinent SIO.

Crouching down, he glared. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Gabriel grinned. "I'm investigating. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Witch hunting."

"Ah, good luck. She's been and gone. Sorry. I tried to stop her but she had that really scary looking Romulan with her, Bern, Stern, whatsisname…"

"Vern."

"Yeah! That dude! Like I said, would have stopped her but I don't fight Romulans."

Calm like Sam, calm like Sam, we will catch the witch, must not strangle IO, he has information, calm like Sam, Dean recited to himself. The tiny communicator hiding in his ear vibrated once. _Enterprise_ was in the system.

Wait. Vern? Vern worked for Kerlyn. Vern was currently working with Gain.

Kerlyn, with lots of capital, lots of influence and lots of hate for the Federation, now had a top notch virologist working for him.

"I see you've figured it out," Gabriel said seriously. "Can we talk…elsewhere? Where we won't be heard by these lovely, gentle beings vacationing in this humble shit-hole? Among the stars, maybe?"

Pursing his lips, Dean sent the code for beam-up back. The transporter room swirled around him as he stepped off the pad. "Right. Security, make sure the SIO gets a shower. Everyone into uniform, be on the bridge in five. Winchester to bridge."

"Captain?"

"Cas, let _Enterprise_ know we're here. They've probably figured out where we are anyway and as much fun as Spock is, I want my first officer back."

"Understood."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"So glad you could join us," Kirk drawled dryly.

Dean grinned over the screen. "Your first officer has mad skills. Can I keep him?"

"Only if Sam stays here."

"Hey, do I get a say in this?"

"No," both captains replied in stereo and a disgruntled Sam subsided, punching buttons harder than necessary on the innocent console.

"Kirk, have you spotted anything unusual in the area?" Dean asked, back to business.

"A brand-new Romulan ship told us it blew you to bits. We laughed in their faces and then took the ship. Scotty's engineering minions are champing at the bit to tear the ship apart. Unfortunately, when we stepped aboard, we triggered the automated defenses. The ship filled with nerve gas that eats our filters. We ended up venting all atmosphere into space. We were going to send over a team in suits but you showed up first. That's it," Kirk summarized neatly.

"You haven't seen anyone trying to board the ship?"

"Nope. And if you're expecting someone, I suggest planting a small security team. They might get suspicious if the ship's completely empty. As it is, Vern might buy a story about boarding the _Impala_ and losing everyone else to a self-destruct."

The captains liked this idea. Unfortunately, their first officers refused to move the _Impala _out of hiding into transporter range, shuttles would be spotted and Kirk was grounded by a very adamant CMO.

They would have to trust Cupcake and his men.

Dean sighed irritably as the security team beamed over and Jo tried valiantly not to sulk at missing all the fun. "Great. So now we wait."

"Yep." Kirk twiddled his thumbs.

"Son of a bitch. I hate waiting. I'm going to go grill Gabriel. You want your first officer back?"

Kirk looked torn. "If we did swap, we'd both have to come out of hiding and lower shields. We could get caught with our pants down."

"I'll hang onto him then. Sammy still in one piece?"

"Yup. Seems Walker tried to activate Gain's mind-voodoo and failed. Sam said he didn't feel even a twitch. Bones is the best."

Dean laughed in relief. "I'll debate you on that; I'm partial to my CMO."

"You're biased, your vote doesn't count."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Dean was just turning around to call Gabriel when the elevator doors swished open and the SIO strutted onto the bridge. Dean rolled his eyes and waved an arm. "Bridge, this is SIO Gabriel. Gabriel, this is the bridge."

Ash nodded, Spock was emotionless, Jo waved and Cas – Castiel froze.

"Cas?" Dean asked curiously. Castiel was one of the most unflappable people Dean knew. Dean had seen Castiel calmly weather situations that had flustered even Sam.

But right now, there was a carved block of marble where his friend and pilot sat.

"Hey, little brother."

Dean bristled. Everyone on the ship pretty much knew Cas was an orphan and while he was a lot better than he used to be, something in his past had resulted in a pilot who was excellent with machinery and abysmally awkward with people.

If Gabriel was the cause, Dean wasn't sure if he could keep his crew from something drastic. Wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to keep the crew from something drastic, actually. The bridge crew closed ranks around Castiel immediately, Ash leaning over to poke his friend, Jo eyeing Gabriel like he was evil incarnate.

"Don't call me that," Castiel said hoarsely, very low.

"What, bro?"

"Don't call me brother," he said more distinctly, standing slowly.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," Gabriel grinned and Dean was surprised to see Castiel flinch.

That was enough of that. "Hey, douche bag. Every time you show up, shit hits the fan. We just hauled your ass out of the fire – yes, we noticed your Miranda-class ship scattered all over the ionosphere, so you were stranded on a planet of crazies. Because I am cognizant of these two facts, you are going to go gratefully and quietly sit in your assigned room. You are not going to leave for any reason. There will be no outbound transmissions unless you run them through me. Poke at us with your spy crap and I'll clap you in the brig so fast your head will spin. Continue to screw with me after that and we'll have an accident near an airlock. It'll be worth the paperwork. Got it?"

Gabriel sized up the captain, who was standing just in front of his pilot. "Sure, but can I talk to – "

"Absolutely _not_. Get out."

Gabriel took another look at the incensed captain and stood not on the order of his going.

"Cas?" Dean asked gently as soon as the jackass was gone.

The pilot was actually trembling, fine shivers of shock running all over his slight frame. "Whoa," Dean muttered and prodded Cas back into his pilot's chair. "Everyone, give me ten. You heard me Ash, out."

A reluctant crew sidled into the elevator. "And leave Gabriel untouched!" Dean called, almost as an afterthought. Explaining why he'd lost a highly experienced SIO because a pissed navigator had stuffed him into a photon torpedo and shot him into the sun would be very awkward. Entertaining and satisfying as hell, but awkward.

"Cas – Luke, talk to me man."

Castiel watched his captain plop into Ash's usual chair, wriggling to get comfortable. "There is nothing to tell. I was in the orphanage with Gabriel. Gabriel, I and three others made a child's pact to be brothers always. It did not last very long. It is only a small part of my life." He fiddled with a minor trim control on his console.

"But you believed in them," Dean said knowingly.

* * *

><p><em>They scared off bullies, they made sure he had a present under the Christmas tree, they taught him to ride a bike, they helped with his homework, they made sure he didn't have to fight for clothes at the orphanage, he was never left out of their games, even when he didn't understand the game because he was still little.<em>

_Then they left, one by one. _

_Gabriel was the first to look after him, the last to go; just vanished overnight, never came back, never sent a message._

* * *

><p>Castiel shrugged. "They taught me that everyone eventually leaves, especially the ones who promise to stay."<p>

Shit. Dean thought back on all the times he'd promised not to leave, promised to come back, pushed Cas to leave for the good of the ship. Cas had never said anything, protested no more than any dedicated crew member would. Damn, how did Dean fix this? He'd even wander deep into chick-flick territory if he had to.

With surprising insight, Castiel leaned forward. "Captain, you and Sam alone have never broken a promise to me. Never, not in the smallest or largest of understandings. That means a great deal, especially because you do not consciously try to keep your promises. Your word is sacred, perhaps because of your own childhood. I know I can trust you with my life and with the lives of the people I care about."

Well damn if that didn't make Dean feel all saintly.

Until he thought about Gabriel again. "Cas – "

"Captain – Dean, I'll be fine. I'm looking forward to keeping Jo and Ash from spacing him. I've been through hell with these people, they're not going to leave voluntarily. Let it go, please."

Clearly Luke Castiel was a better man than Dean Winchester, because Dean was still plotting revenge.

There seemed to be a lot of that going around these days – Sam, Kirk and the witch, Cas and Gabriel.

"All right." Dean punched his comm. "All you nosy crew people, get back in here and pretend like nothing happened. Do it awkwardly so I can laugh at all of you for the rest of the shift."

The elevator doors swished open and crew members tumbled onto the bridge like puppies, Ash clapping a hand to Castiel's shoulder, Jo grinning at him. Dean scribbled out a message on his PADD and discreetly showed it to Spock behind Castiel's back.

The first officer raised an eyebrow but nodded. The encoded message slipped over to the _Enterprise_.

When Sam read the story, Dean wouldn't want be in Gabriel's shoes, not for all the starships in the galaxy.

In the meantime, he had a SIO to visit.

Storming into guest quarters, Dean Winchester eyed Thomas Gabriel like he was something further down on the food chain than Klingon snot.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

"You _left_ him, Gabriel. Brothers don't do that. Not real brothers."

"High and mighty, aren't you, being a brother by blood."

"Hell no." Dean snorted in disgust. "Blood doesn't mean anything. I've seen way too many blood brothers harping and tearing at each other. No, you chose yourself as a brother. Totally different. You accepted that weight. You built up his hopes, made him feel safe and then you dropped his heart, left it to bounce through a freezing cold, impersonal system. You did that to my friend and subordinate, who I know to be fiercely loyal and attached to those he cares about. _You hurt him._"

Gabriel flushed for the first time. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm considering beating your punk ass into sometime next week."

"I'm IO, we're highly trained. You'll lose."

"I'm Captain Dean fucking Winchester. Bring it."

Gabriel wondered if this was what an avenging guardian angel looked like – unrelenting, uncompromising, harder than durasteel and angrier than Nero, commander of the ill-fated time-traveling _Narada_.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Gabriel was in the same orphanage as Cas?" Sam muttered with dark curiosity. The story Dean had sent over prompted this little venture into the spy's past but so far Sam had found only snippets of information. Orphan, bounced about from home to home, diagnosed with moderate ADD but refused meds. Professional career was genius, recording a meteoric rise through the ranks of the Intelligence Office but pretty clean for a spy with just enough black marks to keep a wandering eye from getting suspicious. Interesting, but not damning.

Time to go a bit deeper, read between the lines…he needed Chekov.

The Russian hacker blinked in confusion. He had been sitting in the rec room, happily snacking on cookies with Uhura and Sulu when Sam had blown into the area like a typhoon, snagged the ensign with an apology to his bewildered friends and vanished again.

"You can't tell _anyone_," Sam said sternly and Chekov suddenly remembered Sam Winchester was a very large, sometimes scary man. "Read this."

Scanning the material, Chekov swallowed bubbling anger as information sank in. Spitting something rather vile in Russian, the ensign cracked his knuckles and vanished into cyberspace. "Nicely said," Sam murmured in appreciation and waited with the patience of a hunter.

_Ten minutes later…_

Chekov slumped in his chair.

"What?"

"Ve may hev misjudged de bastard."

"_What?_"

"Vell…"

* * *

><p><em>The orphanage wasn't exactly part of the government's social support system. It was semi-private, run by an idealist who believed in providing more than the skimpy bare necessities as dictated by law. As such, the place was always operating on a shoestring budget, which wasn't a problem until a local gang leader decided the orphanage would make an excellent site for his new brothel. He intimidated, bought out and finagled until the orphanage was nearly bankrupt.<em>

_Gabriel's brothers ditched one by one as things began to grow tight, which hadn't impressed the teen at all. But that didn't change the fact that the orphanage was going to shut down from lack of funding and harassment from the local criminals._

_Thomas Gabriel was a lazy genius. He worked precisely as hard as he needed to attain a respectable 85% average in school, he only helped little Luke with homework and he abhorred hard work. Yet, somehow, allowing this orphanage to go under seemed wrong._

_So he looked up the most lucrative entry-level Starfleet position, which also happened to be the most dangerous and most difficult, applied, was accepted and stipulated that all wages should go anonymously to the orphanage._

_He left without a goodbye because Thomas Gabriel was lazy, kind-hearted and had no great power of will. He was afraid if he said goodbye, he would have never left._

* * *

><p>Sam Winchester was not as impressed as Chekov. "You have sisters, don't you," he stated calmly. The kid blinked in mild incomprehension.<p>

"Da. I am de youngest of six."

"You don't know then. Brothers don't just skip out on brothers because it's difficult, even for the best of reasons. They stick together, no matter what."

"Like de keptin?"

"Much like Jim or Dean. If they had to leave, they'd say so, even if it broke their hearts to do so because you deserved to know unless there were mitigating circumstances, like say, Cas would be killed for knowing where Gabriel went. This? Not mitigating circumstances. No excuse." Sam paused and consciously pulled himself away from negative thoughts. "Thanks for the help Chekov. I'm going to send that over to Dean, who will decide what to do with it. If anyone asks – "

Chekov looked highly offended. "Commander Vinchester. Do you tink I actually left a trail?"

Sam grinned. "My sincerest apologies." He stood, pocketed the chip and headed towards the communications console.

"Ha, apologize. You are also brother, no? Of course you made sure I vould not get in trouble." Chekov grumbled to himself with a small grin. He'd cover up Sam's cyber-tracks and then maybe go see if Uhura saved him some cookies.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"…_and as a final recommendation, I suggest vacationing SIO Thomas Gabriel on a very cold planet for an indefinite period of time. Perhaps the one Captain Kirk briefly sojourned."_

Dean swallowed a chuckle at the acid-tinged words of Sam's unofficial report. Only Sam wrote an unofficial report officially and still managed to convey every single drop of disdain and anger. He'd have to make sure he put himself between Sam and Gabriel the first time they met.

Or just bring popcorn.

"Captain?" Spock asked neutrally. Dean's head snapped up.

"You're doing that thing again, where you grin like a madman. The thing that makes Ellen threaten to sedate you," Ash volunteered bravely.

Oops.

He smiled nicely at his crew.

Judging from their reactions, it wasn't fooling anyone.

"As you were, people. I'm not planning the destruction of the galaxy just yet." Distraction required, distraction required. "Hey, is that a Federation shuttle?"

Spock was the only one to look away from the captain. "It is indeed."

Only then did everyone else return to their stations. "I'm deeply wounded by your lack of faith," Dean grumbled.

There were several pairs of eyes rolled in exasperation.


	12. FUBAR

I do not own Supernatural or Star Trek 2009.

* * *

><p>The problem, Dean decided, with being a good guy wasn't that you got captured, shot at, drugged or otherwise manhandled. He could and did deal with those on a regular basis.<p>

No, the problem was waiting in prison.

He hated being helpless and he hated waiting. When he was waiting with the _Impala,_ at least he had the option of doing something.

Prison? You just sat there and waited for the galaxy to go to hell in a hand basket. Dean believed his situation at the moment was best described by the old military adage FUBAR.

Fucked Up Beyond All Repair.

Yep.

FUBAR. That was Dean.

* * *

><p><em>Impala – Six hours earlier…<em>

"Spock, what can you tell me about that shuttle?"

"It appears to be a Federation prison shuttle and there are four life signs aboard. They are making directly for the warbird."

Dean leaned forward in anticipation. "Excellent."

The bridge waited with bated breath as the little shuttle sailed forward. Then it stopped, standing by.

"Shit, come on, be stupid and dock in the bay where Cupcake can get you," Dean muttered. Sam's doctored Romulan recording of the commander relaying events should have done the trick.

Unless, of course, Vern was feeling like a paranoid bastard.

The shuttle floated in space and Dean got that weird feeling, that prickling crawling feeling that said it was time to haul Cupcake out of there before _Enterprise_ lost her security officers.

"Captain, _Enterprise _has beamed her security team back."

There were many, many times when Dean loved working with Jim Kirk.

And it had been a damn good call too because three warbirds dropped out of warp just as _Enterprise_ slipped back into her blown hiding place and kept moving through the treacherous mine field in an attempt to confuse her pursuers.

The _Impala_ waited, watching Sulu guide the _Enterprise_ through impossible holes in the mine field with deceptive ease. "Come on, get clear," Dean whispered harshly.

It seemed that Kerlyn, Vern, someone had lost patience with the _Enterprise_'s little game because the warbirds were standing off, bringing weapons to bear on the minefield in general instead of the ship in particular.

"Oh shit. Divert power to maximum shields. Move your ass, Kirk. Spock, are we at a safe distance?"

"Negative, captain. We would have to reveal ourselves to remain intact."

"Best case scenario, should we stay in hiding."

"Loss of shields, loss of impulse power, three hours' repair."

"Worst?"

"Disintegration."

Dean glared at the warbirds. This was turning into a bad day. "Closest potential Federation target?"

"A farming colony approximately six hours from this location at maximum Romulan speed."

And engaging four warbirds with the _Enterprise_ tangled in a minefield just wasn't a good enough gamble. They needed another option.

They didn't get it.

The Romulans fired and space exploded.

* * *

><p>Coughing on smoke and noting with detached curiosity that gravity onboard the ship was a little skewed, Dean hauled himself off the floor and croaked "Report!" as loud as he could.<p>

Castiel was the first to stick his hand up, hauling himself into his chair and wiping at a split eyebrow, shakily smearing blood across his console. "Sir, shields are inoperable. Main systems down. Running on auxiliary power."

Ash groaned and swore. "You all right Ash?" Dean asked, woozily surveying the bridge. Ash had a beauty of a black eye forming courtesy of his chair's arm, Jo was still out of it and Spock was shaking his head slowly.

"Dean, _Enterprise_ is massively venting atmosphere! Life pods being prepped! Romulans preparing to fire again!" Ash's voice was pitched high with hysteria.

"Son of a bitch. Bobby! I need something to throw at those Romulans _now_!"

There was a crackle of static.

"Weapons coming online, Captain," Castiel reported with relief.

"You'll have impulse power in forty seconds," Bobby added briefly over the comm.

"No shields?" Dean asked Ash, who scowled and shook his head. "All right. As soon as we have impulse Cas, distract and shoot."

The _Impala _stuttered into action, slipping out from behind the pocked, fragmenting huge ore-tanker that had most likely saved their bacon. She managed to hammer the Romulans from behind before they caught on to who was firing at them. By that point, _Impala _was skipping behind asteroids and junked ships with all the alacrity of a scared jackrabbit.

The disruptor shots came closer and closer as Castiel gritted his teeth and swore. "Captain, we're going to start taking hits and we don't have shields up yet," Ash reported shortly.

Suddenly an idea struck. "Spock, is Vern's shuttle still standing by?"

"It is."

"We're going to take them hostage. Cas, Bobby?"

"By some miracle Dean, the tractor beams are up and running. We could pull it off."

The sweating pilot wiped at his still-bleeding forehead and shot the _Impala_ forward into open space, ducking and weaving the big ship like an old fighter plane of World War II. Dean could hear struts and trusses squealing and groaning in protest as the _Impala_ dodged accurate heavy fire.

The fire stopped. "Sir, I have the shuttle in our tractor beam," Bobby reported with no small satisfaction.

"Can we beam them aboard?"

"Nope. Transporter's fried. It'll take hours."

"Shields?"

"Nada. ETA two hours."

Dean swallowed an inappropriate word. A string of swearing would not help anyone. Pacing, however, felt good. So he stalked about the bridge, thinking furiously.

"_Enterprise_?" he asked Spock.

"Still venting atmosphere but to a lesser degree. It appears repairs are being attempted but it will be several hours before impulse power or shields are online."

Damn, damn, damn.

Four warbirds. No shields. Minimal weapons and power. And only one teeny little shuttle full of enemy standing between the _Impala, _her big sister and oblivion.

He felt safe voicing his thoughts. "This day could not possibly get any worse."

"Sir, we are being hailed by a warbird. They claim to be Kerlyn."

Dean groaned and flopped into his chair. "I just _had_ to say it, didn't I? I just couldn't keep my damn mouth shut. On screen." The cracked screen wobbled a bit and the image stabilized. Dean scowled at the screen.

Why yes, Kerlyn was gloating already, the bastard.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Sam was sweating heavily. Atmosphere was rapidly venting from decks 5 though 7 and the remaining air was thin and hot. Alarms whooped all over the bridge as Kirk bellowed for status reports, Sam tried desperately to boost the ship's self-sealing systems and sparks scattered themselves through the smoking bridge as power sputtered crazily. Scotty would have to fix the impulse problem because Sam didn't have the time.

"Scotty, I need impulse power _now_!" Kirk roared, watching the situation out in space carefully. _Impala _had just blown her cover to save the _Enterprise_'s ass, although it appeared she too had been damaged by the minefield going off.

"You're nae gang tae get it, capt'n!"

Sam pounded an irritated fist on his stuttering console and the display jumped back into focus. Atmospheric pressure was rising. The sealant systems were at work. Impulse power next.

And shit, Scotty wasn't kidding. All the main power couplings had been overloaded or damaged. Minor systems couldn't support the demands of the _Enterprise_'s big engines.

"I need _something_ people or we are all dead, _Impala_ included, so move it!" Kirk shot back as Sam stared intensely at the console. He had it.

"Scotty!" Sam blurted.

"Aye lad?"

"I have an idea. Captain, permission – "

"Go!"

Sam bolted for the elevator and prayed it was still working.

* * *

><p>Scotty thought he was crazy.<p>

Sam pointed out they had both been hanging out with Bobby.

Scotty still thought he was crazy, but hey, they didn't have any better ideas.

Three minutes later, Sam was back up on the bridge and the power levels were rising. "We've rerouted main power through every other network other than the power grid. Sam will regulate and monitor all systems tae try an' keep her from blowing out. Ye've got about five minutes worth of power sair, maybe a wee bit more if Sam's a balancing wizard before the couplings overload and we're dead in the water," Scotty reported grimly as Sam cracked his fingers, ready to play the _Enterprise_ like a grand piano.

"Good enough." Kirk had been doing some work of his own. All they had to do was run away far enough that the _Impala_ could make a break for warp. Dean was creative, he'd get out of trouble if he didn't have to worry about a crippled Constitution-class ship.

"Sulu, you know the plan."

"Aye sir."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Where the hell is he going?" Dean muttered as the _Enterprise_ lurched away clumsily, her fluctuating power readings sending Spock's science station haywire.

Kerlyn had been giving his usual rant about how you are all going to die for the sins perpetrated against his august person, yadda yadda, evil villain monologue all the way and Dean hadn't shut him up. The more Kerlyn talked, the more time they had.

And it seemed _Enterprise_ was making use of it.

She wobbled around an asteroid, vanished into a clump of battered derelicts in such a way that Dean wasn't sure she was going to come out.

She didn't.

No mines went off. Nothing disintegrated like it should have upon close proximity to the big ship.

Curious.

Before anyone could blink, Kerlyn had slammed his hand down on the firing console and the mess of ships presumably hiding the _Enterprise_ exploded.

No _Enterprise_. Not even little _Enterprise_ bits. It was like she disappeared.

"Fascinating," Spock murmured.

Kerlyn went ballistic and turned his ship on the _Impala_, clearly lost in a rage and forgetting about the shuttle held in the _Impala_'s grasp.

Fire exploded across the _Impala's _view screen before Dean's vision went black.

* * *

><p><em>Present time<em>…

Which of course, brings events up to speed on the current situation.

In prison.

He'd woken up in prison. All by himself, although he could hear his crew down the hall. No one was dead yet, which was either really good or really bad.

Two guesses as to whether it was good or bad and the first one didn't count.

This – held in an unknown prison by a crazy Romulan who could wipe out the Federation, providing the little shuttle hadn't taken the brunt of that last salvo for the _Impala – _was not Dean's idea of fun. Personally, he hoped the shuttle had survived. Then he could still nab Gain. From a captain's point of view though, he kind of hoped the shuttle hadn't made it. If the shuttle was gone, so was Gain and Ellen had confirmed that her virus thingy was really hard to make if you weren't a genius and didn't have all her research notes.

The barred door banged open and Dean squinted up at his captor through a pounding headache. So she wasn't dead. Probably pissed at Kerlyn though, since her arm was in a sling and stitches dotted her forehead. "Ah, Dr. Gain. I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of actually making your acquaintance. I see you've brought a few security goons with you. I'm flattered."

The scientist sneered at him. "Clearly I underestimated the density of a stupid mind. Your brother resisted my acquisition methods. You will have no such chance."

"Well doesn't that just make me feel special. Bitch, you'd better make sure you get it right the first time because if I get my hands on you, you are a very, very dead mad scientist."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Captain Kirk, Sam decided, was a man of vision. He was also clinically insane.

Hiding inside a very conveniently hollowed out asteroid should have been impossible. Kirk demanded nothing less from his crew and Sulu's delicate but desperately quick piloting has still scraped plates off the hull and _Enterprise_ was constantly dinging off the hollowed out walls. Uhura's quick jamming job had been a work of genius, shutting down the mines in the ships. And Sam had single-handedly blown out the entire ship like a giant light-bulb.

Scotty had simultaneously cursed and blessed Sam's quick but destructive thinking after every power system onboard the huge ship fried completely. Sam had managed impulse power for three excruciating minutes longer than Scotty had expected but the damage was extensive.

No sensors. No communications. No power. No shields. No weapons.

Actually, it'd be easier to list what was working: life support.

Which was always good, Sam thought positively as he zapped himself on a main power coupling. Life support was good. Without it, things would have gotten really sticky. And they hadn't launched the life pods, just ordered crew into them. The shielded life pods had saved several lives when deck eight decided to rupture after they'd secured their position.

Too bad they had no idea what had happened to the _Impala _and they didn't dare find out until the _Enterprise _was more than a sitting duck.

So Sam fixed power couplings, crammed himself into places a 6'4 frame should not have fit and worked tirelessly despite bitching ribs, itching half-healed cuts, fresh bruises, a sore head and a possibly sprained wrist. He deliberately did not think about his crew. They would be fine. They had Dean. And Spock. They would be fine.

He zapped himself again, half on purpose so all he could think about was the 'ouch.'

* * *

><p>Captain James T. Kirk was a very irritated captain. Emphasis on very. This screwed over, fucked up mission had cost him his first officer (he'd gained a pretty good one in return, so it wasn't that bad of a trade), his ship, his friends, his friend's ship and was threatening all of the aforementioned plus the Federation.<p>

And his girl was going nowhere for at least another twelve hours.

Thus, he was buried in Engineering, trying to help Scotty. Every hand was needed, since half of Engineering was in sickbay. When Kirk had stopped by to check on Bones, he hadn't even gone in. The place had been a controlled madhouse and Kirk's injuries were easily seen to by a distracted Sam Winchester, who was trying very hard to hide the fact that he was a hair's width away from falling apart.

Working in Engineering though, gave him time to think. Time to plan. Time to come up with many, many secondary plans (Kirk liked plans. He just never told anyone about said plans). Then he thought very carefully about his current assets and hindrances so that when he had to wing it, he would know what resources he had at his disposal.

He came to one concrete conclusion.

This whole Romulan/spy/mad scientist thing?

It was _really_ starting to piss him off.

* * *

><p><em>Unknown location<em>

If this was what Sam felt like, his brother was tougher than Dean gave him credit for and Dean already though Sam plenty tough.

Kirk had said something about seeing fish.

Dean was seeing Winnie-the-Pooh characters dance around the cell and no, he did _not_ want to consider what that said about the status of his brain, thank you very much.

And the lovely Dr. Gain had felt it necessary to take her frustrations out on him with a nasty whip-like thing that had peeled skin from his back like Dean peeled a banana.

He could hear his crew calling to him, Bobby's worried gruff tones carrying an immeasurable amount of comfort, but Dean's tongue was stuck to the top of his dried out mouth and nothing was going to change that.

So he'd lie here silently, listen to his crew, remember he was Dean Winchester, not some brainwashed drone and think about killing Dr. Gain by forcing her to eat Winnie-the-Pooh.

He thought it sounded like poetic justice.

* * *

><p>The captain wasn't replying to their calls, which was worrying. Everyone was pretty battered, milling about in confusion until Spock had quietly taken command, separating people into departments, sitting them down in corners and ensuring the wounded got to see Ellen.<p>

Castiel had been the one on watch at the door, the one to see them drag the captain back to his cell. The pilot had promptly thrown up all over Ash's boots, sinking to the floor. "Captain," he whispered. Ash paled to a dead white. Castiel _never_ freaked like this. "We need to get him out. Now." Castiel managed to choke out, wiping his mouth. "Where's the SIO?"

Ash blinked. "What?"

"He's a spy, they break out of places all the time! Where is Thomas Gabriel?" Castiel demanded. In response, Spock moved over with an alien-strong hand clamped into the shirt of one reluctant spy.

"I can't do anything," Gabriel insisted immediately.

Then he rethought that statement. Spock was very large, Ash was very violent and the cute little Luke Castiel Gabriel had known was nowhere in sight. A smaller, hard fist knotted into the front of his shirt and actually yanked Gabriel out of Spock's grasp.

"_You will help us save our captain or so help me I will make you wish you were never born_." Every word was enunciated calmly, punctuated perfectly and years of simmering resentment were held barely at bay by that short sentence. "_Well?_"

Gabriel licked his lips and nodded, thinking furiously. "The best way to do it would be to hide him in plain sight." Castiel's fist didn't loosen. "Look, if we break him out and then run away, they'll be looking for an entire crew and while we have a good number of people, we're all unarmed and not everyone in this group is experienced in fighting although I'm quite sure they'd give it their all."

"What do you suggest?" Spock asked, by far the calmest of the bunch. Gabriel latched onto the calm like a lifeline. "I don't suggest. Seriously, I don't know. I've never run an extraction so I've never had to cover my tracks. But I can tell you that the best course of action would be to hide the captain somewhere in this room, preferably disguised. Naturally, someone will have to either take the captain's place or accept blame in such a way that the rest of us aren't implicated and the captain stays hidden. Of course, that's assuming Gain lets us live. She's got no real reason to let us live. We're probably guinea pigs."

Ash clamped a hand over the spy's mouth. "Don't say it so loud! We'd have panic on our hands!"

Gabriel's eyebrows waggled and Ash disgustedly pulled his hand away, wiping it on Gabriel's shoulder. "You already knew?" the SIO asked in interest.

Castiel glared and Ash rolled his eyes in weary resignation. "You _are_ looking at a trio of geniuses. I swear, IO thinks they're the only people in Starfleet with half a brain." Spock was already examining the cell door with intense interest.

"It is unfortunate that we do not have Commander Winchester with us," he remarked calmly. "His skill in extricating individuals from prison is far greater than my own."

Ash saw what Spock was attempting to do immediately. "Yeah, Sam's good like that," he replied, cooling off. Hot tempers didn't help Dean and right now, Castiel was probably considering skinning the SIO. Distractions worked best with Castiel.

Sure enough, the pilot let Gabriel go and joined them on the floor. Jo wobbled over as well, a hand to her head. "Shit," she cursed. "I haven't had a concussion this bad since we thought it'd be a good idea to test a flash grenade on ourselves in Gram's corn silo."

Spock tilted his head to one side. "And why did you think it was a good idea?"

Jo shrugged. "We were bored and wanted to see what would happen."

"That is…why are you disrobing?"

Jo had stripped off her red security shirt, her black long-sleeved t-shirt and was fishing around in her bra underneath a black tank top as Castiel flushed red, Spock pointedly looked away, Ash watched curiously and Gabriel grinned with delighted interest. "Well," she screwed her face up in concentration, "they searched all of us pretty well. But they did miss one – ouch – thing."

She held up a thin, curved wire.

"I thought under-wire bras went out of production in 2140?" Ash asked and then shrugged when everyone in earshot stared at him. "What? I like women. I like what women like. Women like it when men are sensitive and know these liberating things."

Jo's eyebrows were practically crawling off her forehead in skepticism but she shook her head and focused on the task at hand. "I wear a faux under-wire just for this reason, dumbass. And if I _ever_ find you anywhere near my lingerie drawer, you'd better pray my mother catches you before I do."

Ash gulped.

Jo went to work.

* * *

><p>Dean's head was spinning. Voices were gently whispering insidious things into his ear, subtle things, like how he hated the Federation and Jim Kirk and his crew and Sam. Whenever he resisted the thoughts, pain spiked all along his spine and extremities, burning like a brand.<p>

When he thought nothing at all, the voices swelled, the pain receded and that was good. Less pain was good.

_Yes, yes give in, think nothing at all it will stop hurting stop hurting your ship is gone your brother gave in he's abandoned you_

That thought jolted a drifting Dean back to consciousness with its sheer audacity.

Sam? Abandon Dean?

To quote a good friend of Dean's – bullshit.

Pain flared all over his body, attempting to subdue him, drag him back to that nothing-state where he listened to the voices.

_You will do as I say you will do as I say do it now Sam has left you I will not let you go give in it will stop hurting Sam is gone Sam is _dead

Bullshit.

He was Captain Dean Winchester and no one dictated his thoughts or actions.

And if Sam was dead, Dean would kill the bitch in his brain with his bare hands, march past the very gates of heaven (because Sam would never ever end up in hell) and drag him back kicking and screaming just so Dean could beat the snot out of his impertinent kid brother himself.

He figuratively plugged his figurative fingers in his figurative ears and started humming "The Song That Never Ends."

It was probably the wrong thought to have, but hey, at least Gain would have one hell of a time getting the song out of her head.


	13. Implosion

I do not own Supernatural or Star Trek 2009.

* * *

><p>Commander Sam Winchester was not having a great week. He had been kidnapped, drugged and beaten. Then a spy makes off with a very dangerous virus that could kill off the entire Federation in a few months and his brother went missing just as the <em>Enterprise<em> got the shit kicked out of her by a minefield, surviving only by the skin of her teeth and her crazy captain.

He and Scotty had pulled off a major miracle in getting the _Enterprise_ back into something resembling fighting shape before the unique ion trail of the _Impala_ disappeared but now they had no idea where they were going, how long it would take them to find the end or even what they would find when they got there.

Sam could find his brother, alive and well, sitting in a field of victory.

He could find the battered, lifeless remains of his family and ship.

Or he could find nothing at all and quite frankly that scared him the most.

Pounding on the science console, Sam glared at the negative scan readings as they refused to tell him what he wanted to know. "Chekov, please tell me you've still got a line on their ion trail," Kirk demanded, stern-faced and tense in his captain's chair.

"Aye keptin. Ve should arriwe vithin half an hour if my estimations are correct. Howewer ser, my estimate is experimental, not always accurate and I hev no vay of knowing vhat is vaiting vhen ve arriwe." Chekov stabbed at his readings with sharp, irritated movements.

Kirk turned to Sam, who shook his head. "I'll know as soon as we drop out of warp captain, but I can't tell you if the enemy will be waiting or not, especially if they're cloaked Romulans."

"Sulu, ETA?"

"I don't know when the trail will end, Captain. I can only tell you when it gets stronger."

Kirk glared unseeingly at the screen through a fading, sore black eye. Communications still damaged, no way of contacting Starfleet, a missing ship, a runaway spy and rebel Romulans were tangled up in it somehow. This was rapidly spiralling out of control.

* * *

><p><em>Dean<em>

Dean had been dragged out of his cell, his head spinning and limbs trembling. Thrown to the durasteel floor of the prison, he hauled himself to his elbows, staring at the polished boots of a Romulan commander.

"Captain Dean Winchester of the USS _Impala_," the commander drawled in cold tones, "I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I am the esteemed Commandant Kerlyn. I hold your life and the Federation in the palm of my hand."

Dean spat bloody saliva directly onto the shiny boots with a potent curse. Said boots belted him in the chin, splitting skin and spattering more blood across the floor. "It seems you live up to your reputation for stupidity," the commandant said with pleasure. "Excellent. I shall enjoy watching pain and horror chase each other round and round your face until you die of despair. Vern, bring him up to my ship. Yet have no fear, Captain Winchester! At the very least, your men will be released to the formidable _Impala _immediately."

The wicked grin accompanying that reassurance had chills running down Dean's spine.

* * *

><p><em>Impala crew<em>

Jo had almost convinced the cell door to open when they heard boots pounding down the corridor. She yanked the mangled wire out of the lock and stuffed it down her bra again as Spock and Ash pulled her back, screening her movements.

The door creaked open and thoroughly armed Romulans held disruptors on the crew. "Come with us now and no one else gets hurt," the leader snapped briskly. Everyone looked at Spock, who nodded shortly.

"In an orderly fashion," the Vulcan said quietly, gesturing to the door. Castiel stepped up first, face stony. Ash followed him as Jo gestured for her security officers to take up the rear. The scientists took up the middle, eyes wide and nervous, unused to being in immediate, personal danger.

To their immense surprise, the crew was returned to the _Impala_ via transporter. The bridge crew huddled together. "I don't get it," Jo muttered. "Why the hell would they return us to our ship?"

"I don't know," Bobby replied, "but I do know that the engine room is fried. We ain't goin' nowhere until we get a new warp core and sublight engines. Shuttle bay's been blasted shut an' the shuttles are out of commission for at least twelve hours. Communications are fried too. At least we've got hull integrity."

And then there was a hissing noise in the vents.

A quick reading with the medical tricorder had Ellen paling drastically. "Commander Spock, they've released a virus into the ventilation systems. If these readings are right, we're all going to be dead in six hours."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"We've overshot the end of the ion trail, sir. Coming about to where the trail truncates," Sulu announced.

"Sir, there is a class-M planet in the area with a large industrial complex. It's not registered with the Federation, her allies or the Romulans as far as we can ascertain," Sam reported. "No Romulan ships detected in the immediate vicinity. There is one derelict ship in orbit. It could be the _Impala_, sir."

Kirk deliberately did not look at his interim first officer. The man was holding it together so far and the best way to help Sam was to find his ship in one piece. If he was anything like Spock, admitting that it could be the _Impala_ meant Sam was 85% certain the _Impala_ was floating dead in space.

The captain rolled his lips together in frustration and dread. "Red alert. Stand by at battle stations."

The derelict was indeed the _Impala_, battered, broken, port nacelle hanging loose. Uhura's soft gasp was punctuated by a snap from the science station, where Sam had gripped his seat so hard the plastic cracked. "Scans?" Kirk demanded.

"Life signs present aboard the _Impala_. No hostile ships in the area." Sam's voice was hoarse but controlled.

"Stand off in a defensive formation. Continue to scan. Uhura, contact them if possible."

Uhura paused before reluctantly reporting that the _Impala_ was broadcasting a jury-rigged quarantine signal and her communications were not functioning.

"Quarantine?" Bones demanded. "Jim, if that weasel Walker made it to the planet before us, we could be surrounded by Romulan warbirds just waiting for us to transport over and walk into that virus."

Kirk thought carefully for a minute. "Very well. Winchester, get me a sample of the air on that ship. Get creative, take Scotty and Bones with you. Chekov, I want this area of space scoured constantly. No nasty surprises. Sulu, you and I are going to scan that industrial complex. We need to figure out what the hell is going on before more surprises blow up in our face."

* * *

><p><em>Kerlyn<em>

"How are you feeling, Captain Winchester?"

Dean was feeling like shit, to be honest but there was no way in hell he was going to let Kerlyn know that. Vern had turned out to be a sadistic bastard, enjoying his prisoner's pain. Broad strips of skin had been peeled back from Dean's forearms, hanging loose before Vern had cauterized them with a crude, red hot iron rod to prevent blood spilling all over the corridor on their way up to the bridge, just in case the Romulans had to go into battle. Slipping on a prisoner's blood would lower the ship's efficiency.

"Come, stand beside me."

Dean straightened his spine and glanced up at the view screen.

_Enterprise_! Kirk had made it after all! Of course he made it, the stubborn bastard.

Hope jumped into his throat, threatening to choke him.

"Your face says you believe the great Captain Kirk will save you and your crew," Kerlyn relished each word like a rich morsel of finest meat. "I believe you will not find that to be so. The _Impala_ has been flooded with the lovely little virus the talented Dr. Gain has created. Your beloved crew will be dead within hours."

Dean glared at the Romulan. Ellen would figure it out. And Kirk wasn't an idiot. There was still hope. There was still maneuvering room.

"Of course, if they do succeed, my fleet is standing by to obliterate them. I hope they do succeed. I would like to know what kind of a solution the Federation would use to neutralize our threat. I am certain Dr. Gain would make great use of the information. In the meantime, I believe I can allow you to enjoy the company of Commander Vern a little longer."

"Bastard," was all Dean managed to spit out before Vern's hand clamped down on his collar, dragging him back to hell.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Dr. Harvelle, status report?"

"Damn it Spock, I've only just got a handle on the thing and it's already laid out three engineering ensigns. I'll have an antidote but I don't know how many men will die before I figure it out." The doctor sounded tired and harried.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you can get Bones over here," Ellen snapped.

"I shall endeavour to do so," Spock replied. "Spock out. Commander Ash, Commander Singer, is there any way to get the shuttle bay open? We need to contact _Enterprise_."

"How drastic do you want me to go?" Bobby demanded. Spock eyed the _Enterprise_ and thought of the war birds that were certainly standing by to eliminate the Federation personnel the instant they seemed ready to attempt an escape.

"I want that bay open. Make it happen."

"Got it."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk was examining planetary scans with Sulu when there was a flowery burst of fire from the _Impala_'s shuttle bay. "It seems that the shuttle bay's open," he remarked. "Bones, Winchester and I are going over. Everyone else, stand by. If there are Romulans in the area, they could make an assault when the shuttle's out in the open. Let's move people, I don't like sitting around like this. Scotty, I want our shields at 100%."

"Capt'n, I need more time, it was a miracle we got warp back online."

"Scotty, you don't have time. Make it work. Let's move before this thing goes south. Sulu, you have the conn."

Sam was practically walking on Kirk's heels as they mobilized.

* * *

><p><em>Kerlyn<em>

"How sweet. The self-sacrificing _Impala_, readily blowing parts of herself wide open to allow her friends in to their doom."

Wheezing, Dean glared at the man. This jackass had come within ten feet of his brother? If Dean had known how close Sam had been to sadistic torture and death, he would have said damn Starfleet and gone on a manhunt for the Romulan himself. "You hate me, don't you," Kerlyn gloated. "It's not going to help you. In the end, the Federation will bow to me and me alone. It would be best for you to give in now and beg for mercy." He smiled sadistically. "Well?"

Dean's eyes were hooded, his posture bowed.

"Well?"

"Go to hell."

"I didn't hear you."

"Go to _hell_."

Kerlyn leaned in closer. "What?"

Dean's head tipped up, angry eyes bright with determination. His head reared back and slammed into Kerlyn's already-crooked nose with brutal force.

"I _said_ GO TO HELL!" Dean roared, planting a heel into the Romulan's diaphragm before Vern smashed a disruptor rifle's butt into the back of his head.

"Take him away until he's broken," Kerlyn croaked, venom oozing from every pore. "And if he even attempts to escape, you will take his place, understand?" Vern bared his teeth with cruel anticipation.

"Perfectly."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Containment protocols in place, captain," Sam reported through his haz-mat suit as the shuttle finished its landing sequence.

"Let's _go_," McCoy demanded. "Time is ticking."

"Move out," Kirk ordered. "Bones, get to the infirmary ASAP. Winchester, you and I are going to find your brother. Hop to it."

Spock was waiting for them. "Spock! Report!"

Filling them in was the work of a moment. Keeping a handle on Sam Winchester was a lot harder. In the end, Kirk decided it would be an efficient use of resources to allow Castiel, Ash and Sam to track down Dean. They weren't leaving without the elder Winchester.

"Sam, if you do get a line on him, the shuttle's at your disposal. He's either on the planet or on one of those hidden war birds. McCoy, you and Harvelle obviously have to get a handle on this virus. Spock, with me. I need both ships ready for combat at any moment. Find me Commander Singer. Let's move people, we're the Federation's only hope."

Four more _Impala_ crew members had fallen to the disease, bringing the count to seven. No one was dead yet but Ash, acting on a whim, had discovered that the infirmary was bugged to the hilt with listening devices and cameras, which had only reinforced Spock and Kirk's suspicions that the Romulans were watching both _Impala_ and _Enterprise_ like fish in a tank.

"Spock, find a way to jam the Romulan instruments without them noticing."

"Captain, that is theoretically impossible."

"So you have an idea?"

"Perhaps."

* * *

><p><em>Kerlyn<em>

"The _Enterprise_ has been in the system for four hours. I think the _Impala_ and the heroes aboard her should be in the throes of painful death. And I want the pleasure of ending the _Enterprise_ myself. Prepare to de-cloak. When we are finished turning the pride of Starfleet into nothing more than a twisted example of my power, we will contact the spy and unleash my wrath on those who have insulted the great Romulan empire." Kerlyn gloated. "Is Captain Winchester still with us?"

Vern shrugged. "Somehow. One might almost respect him for his tenacity. At the very least, he is lasting longer than the last human we…hosted."

* * *

><p>The shuttle had zoomed towards the Romulan war bird as soon as it appeared and now Commander Jo Harvelle glued herself to the wall of the enemy ship. "You're sure we got the right one?" she hissed to a stone-faced Sam Winchester, who simply glared in answer. "Got it. Ash, cover our six." They slipped through the corridors quickly and silently.<p>

"I got a line on a human signature two decks up," Ash reported with none of his usual lackadaisical, laid-back drawl. "We have a three minute window before _Enterprise_ fires on our location and hopes to toast Kerlyn." Two decks up, Ash plugged a chip into the control panel beside the door that purportedly contained a human signature. "Worm uploaded. Estimate one minute until the ship's disabled. Door opening in 3, 2, 1."

The door hissed open and they rolled in.

Anger ran ice cold and then boiled in Sam Winchester's veins as Vern stood with a dripping laser scalpel over the prone figure of Dean Winchester, thick red blood plopping languidly off the table.

With an animalistic roar, the younger Winchester charged across the room, slamming into Vern with punishing force, the Romulan's head cracking off the floor. Dazed, Vern struggled to his feet but there was no Winchester to fight.

Sam was hunched over his brother as Ash trained a phaser on the Romulan with a very scary glint in his eye. "Ash, get out of here. I want this ship to blow. Take Jo with you. I'll get Dean out."

Jo nodded, dragging a reluctant Ash with her. Questioning Commander Winchester at this juncture would be a bad idea.

"You are arrogant enough to assume you alone are enough to defend your brother from me and an entire ship of trained Romulan warriors?" Vern sneered, staggering woozily as Sam bit his lip, ripping a sleeve from his shirt and pulling out field bandages, closing up the worst wounds.

"Hey Deano, you in there?" Sam shifted Dean to a sitting position, cradling his brother's head in the crook of his shoulder, listening with pain to Dean's wheezing breathing

"Winchester, are you listening to me?"

Sam Winchester's dead cold glare would have stopped a far braver being in its tracks. Gently checking over his brother, ignoring the threat to himself, Sam carefully hoisted Dean up into a gentle fireman's carry.

Vern stepped forward, shifting into a fighting stance.

Sam's expression froze into a universal statement of "Bother us again and I will tear your face off millimetre by millimetre, salting the exposed flesh with glee."

The Romulan subsided, especially since the phaser Sam carried in his free hand hovered between Vern's groin and his head. "You're going to come with us. You are going to do so quietly. You are not going to attempt to escape. If you do feel the urge to escape, I will kill you instantly and with great pleasure. Move."

Vern waffled for a second.

Sam shot him.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"We're clear of that virus Jim but that's only as long as Gain doesn't monkey with it again," McCoy reported. "Ellen says she'll be all right by herself."

"Good work Bones. Spock?"

"Shields at maximum, captain. Still no transporter so Commander Winchester's extraction team will have to make a shuttle run. Waiting on the Romulan vessel's appearance."

"Excellent. Crew stand by."

The _Enterprise_ hummed with anticipation. Even if they managed to nail Kerlyn's ship, they were vastly outnumbered and Kirk knew it. Seven war birds against two heavily battered Federation ships? No-win scenario. Both ships were going to run and run _fast_. _Impala_ had orders to blast out of the system as soon as the Winchesters made it back on board. Kirk had pinned Castiel down and extracted a promise to leave _Enterprise _behind out of the stoic pilot, knowing he would follow through.

"Sir, Romulan war bird on screen."

"Sulu, nail'em and make it count."

_Enterprise_ was pissed and it showed, even if she was held together by duct tape and Keenser's weirdo alien bubblegum. Slamming into the war bird with all her might, she waded into battle again.

* * *

><p><em>Kerlyn<em>

"What? What, I don't understand! They were disabled. Why are our shields fluctuating? What is going on? Someone get me answers! Vern? Vern, respond!"

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship _Enterprise_. Surrender or perish."

Kerlyn stared at his stricken, confused crew and the implacable _Enterprise_ captain. The war bird shuddered under another onslaught and Kerlyn almost missed the shuttle making a break for the _Impala_. "Shoot down that shuttle!" he screamed, his finger shaking with rage. When his confused navigator shot wildly at the weaving shuttle, Kirk decided enough was enough.

"We will construe your continued hostilities as a refusal of surrender and proceed accordingly. Prepare to be destroyed."

That was when the seven other war birds decided to make themselves known.

Kirk scowled.

Time to think creatively.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

The shuttle rattled to a landing with haste and little care, the door swishing open as soon as atmosphere was restored, Sam stumbling down the steps. "Ellen! Ellen, help!" he cried as various crew members stared in horror. "_Move_!" Sam shouted, running towards the bay doors, his battered brother clutched in his arms.

Jo tumbled out behind him, making a dash for the bridge. "Connect me to the bridge and get us out of here," she shouted as Ash dragged a groggy Vern out of the shuttle.

"Put him in the brig and make sure the cell's gassed. He's not going to regain consciousness until we turn him over to IO," Ash growled, shoving the Romulan into the grasp of Jo's biggest security guards.

He sprinted onto the bridge just in time to see the _Impala_ jump to warp. "What, we're leaving _Enterprise_ behind?" Ash demanded as Castiel manipulated rebelling, fracturing controls.

"We are, under Captain Kirk's orders. Sit down and help me out, we're suffering warp overload."

"What? You put one of the _Enterprise_'s warp cores into our engines? What the hell were Bobby and Scotty thinking?" Ash plopped into his chair, wincing at the fluctuating power levels. It should have been a simple thing to dump a big warp core into a small ship but in reality it was comparable to strapping a jet rocket into a hover-car with masking tape – if you weren't careful, the whole engine would blow and the ship would be so much debris floating in space

* * *

><p>Dr. Ellen Harvelle had to swallow hard and put an extra lock on her emotions when Sam Winchester appeared in the infirmary door, blood staining his shirt, hands and face, his brother cradled in his arms, wide hazel eyes begging her to make this right, terrified and helpless.<p>

"On the bed," she ordered briskly, "and then someone get him out of here." How the hell had a sentient being done this to another? Skin hung loose, fingernails missing, tendons ripped free, ribs broken, a punctured lung hastily reinflated by Sam and his ever-present first-aid kit, face sliced open with a thin sharp knife, bruises surfacing on his feet from a beating.

Sam should not see this. "Get him out of here!" Ellen ordered again when her orderlies hesitated to push a towering, intimidating, terrified first officer out the door.

"What?" Sam asked, hurt vibrating through his voice.

"Go up to the bridge and keep us in one piece. Trust me. Go!"

"Is he going to make it?"

Ellen spared a second to meet his eyes. "Yes."

She'd keep that promise.

She had to. She'd never forgive herself if she didn't.

* * *

><p>Sam stared at the view screen without actually seeing the screen, the bridge or the crew, sitting in his brother's chair and hearing his brother's laboured breathing rasp constantly in his ears. "Where are we going?" he asked tonelessly.<p>

The bridge crew eyed each other carefully. "We are heading to the closest star base. Someone has to notify the Federation that Walker and Gain made it off the planet. They're planning to spread a virus that's going to kill humans, Klingons and Romulans alike," Ash reported succinctly. "_Enterprise_ stayed behind to cover our run."

"What's the _Impala_'s status?" Sam heard himself asking before his complaining ribs seemed to collapse in on themselves and he realized that not all of the blood staining his uniform was Dean's. He slipped from the chair bonelessly, feeling the last vestiges of situational control slip from his fingers and the world went black.


	14. Rock Bottom

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"You wanted us to surrender?" a mad Kerlyn cackled and Kirk realized that the Romulan was legitimately, actually insane. "I think you will all perish here in the emptiness of space, crushed beneath the superiority of the Romulan race in general and specifically my august talents."

"Is this guy for real?" Kirk muttered under his breath. "Spock, options."

The irritated glance sent his way by his first officer told Kirk that Spock was probably trying to come up with options already and running dry. Eight warbirds would have been cause for worry even if _Enterprise_ was in full fighting trim and right now – Kirk eyed Sulu's sparking pilot console with a tired resignation – his poor girl was falling apart at the seams.

Suddenly Kerlyn's ship blew up.

Into tiny sparkly bits.

Flabbergasted, Kirk gaped at the screen. "That…was convenient." Marshalling his scattered wits, he regrouped. "Guess Harvelle planted that explosive after all. Maximum warp, Sulu. Follow the _Impala _and keep an eye out for her. We've got a Federation to save and no time to play with Kerlyn's little friends. Discretion, valour and all that, you know."

_Enterprise _jumped to warp, leaving seven very confused Romulan war birds in her wake.

* * *

><p><em>Impala – three hours later…<em>

Commander Ash of the USS _Impala_ was fervently wishing that Commander Spock had stayed on the _Impala_, despite Kirk's obvious desire to get his first officer back. You see, while Ash liked being on the bridge crew, he didn't actually like being in command, especially when the two men the entire ship looked to for leadership were lying side-by-side in the infirmary, first officer passed out due to exhaustion, over-exertion and re-opened wounds while the captain, larger than life and usually solid as bedrock, hovered at death's door.

Thus everyone looked to him for all-knowing leadership. It was unnerving and he decidedly disliked the feeling. On top of that, he didn't know what he was doing at _all_. The _Impala_ and her crew didn't believe in running for running's sake and yeah, they needed to make it to the closest starbase in time to stop the virus from getting out but shit, Ash had no way of convincing the commander there that the _Impala_ wasn't just trying to yank his/her chain.

Rubbing his forehead wearily and tweaking the main power coupling again, Ash stared blearily at his console with sand-filled eyes. Castiel, partner and pilot beside him wasn't in any better shape but they didn't dare turn the bridge over to the second bridge crew. The seconds weren't a bad lot, but they lacked Ash's delicate touch and imagination. Exploding the warp core would be an astronomically sucky ending to a shitty couple of days and fuck if Ash wasn't praying for life to look up because the _Impala _had just been run through the wringer.

Suddenly the ship bucked, Ash swore bitterly and the _Impala_ slewed out of warp at a crazy angle. Slamming into sublight space, Ash's diagnostics revealed that the weakened port nacelle had finally decided to croak, cracking along the recent repair line. He was tempted to kick his console. Damn it, he should have seen it wobbling, should have anticipated, should have this, should have that, so many things should have gone differently.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder. "Enough," Castiel said gently. "We're all running on fumes. Get the second bridge crew up here. We'll proceed at full impulse as soon as engineering fixes the problem. Warp can wait. At this rate, we're only going to get ourselves killed."

"Bobby," Ash croaked over the comm, determined to keep going.

"I agree with the kid," the engineer replied, sounding at least as tired as Ash. "We're not going to get anywhere fast. There's no magic or miracle involved here. I can't fix the nacelle any faster than five hours, even if I hound the boys constantly. We'll be in better shape to handle this whole problem if we all take a breather and get some sleep so we don't run the _Impala_ into an asteroid or wire her main power systems to the food replicators."

The steady, reliable common sense of the oldest member of the crew centered the young, stressed bridge crew, got them back in touch with reality. Dismissing everyone, Ash saw a weaving Castiel to his quarters before stumbling off to the infirmary in desperate hope of finding a miracle.

He didn't find that miracle. According to Ellen, they were holding their own and no more. It sure as hell didn't look like holding their own. The captain was laid out under a swarm of tubes and bandages, monitors beeping mournfully and Ash clenched his jaw tightly, swallowing a childish sob. He was a genius sure, but only with numbers, not with impossible Federation-saving plans or crew-wrangling. Seeing his big, wild captain bundled together like a fistful of twigs was physically painful. They had to get the captain back. Hell, no one else aboard this ship, not even Sam, had Dean Winchester's incredible talent for the impossible.

"Com'on, Captain. We need you." Slumping down into a chair, Ash glanced over at the milk-pale first officer. "Shit Sam." Why didn't the idiot _tell_ them he still felt like crap? Internal haemorrhaging from beating up Romulans, picking up his brother and ripping loose the glue so carefully applied by Bones, completing the impossible task of finding the captain on a cloaked war bird before collapsing on the bridge. Sam had run until he burned himself out, ignoring the fact that Jo's whole freakin' job revolved around keeping the crew safe. Ash knew she was going to be beating herself up about this whole sequence of events for a long, long time.

"Fuck, where's _Enterprise_ when you need her?"

Commander Ash, second officer of the USS _Impala_, dozed off in the chair between his captain and first officer, carrying the weight of the world and wondering how the Winchesters managed it all the time.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk shifted in his chair and flinched. Why yes, his ribs were reminding him that only four days ago they had been rather violently abused. He had sent the first bridge crew off to bed and was finishing up his reports when Spock appeared to drag his ass off the bridge like a recalcitrant child. "I'm capable of walking, Spock," he insisted as the first officer's firm hand supported his elbow.

"Certainly, captain," Spock replied in that faintly tolerant tone of voice that always managed to make Kirk feel about ten years old. Marooned in his room as the door slid shut behind the Vulcan, Kirk briefly considered crawling into his sleep sweats but collapsed on the bed, dead to the world.

He was sleeping fitfully when the door whistled and Kirk jolted upright. Wiping a hand over his face, he ignored the pounding headache banging away at his forehead. "Come."

Spock stepped into the captain's quarters, perfectly attired and at textbook parade rest but with fine lines of exhaustion hovering around his eyes and mouth. "Captain, we are coming up on Starbase 4. Two hours ago, the second bridge crew discovered the _Impala_ proceeding at impulse power as they had blown out their port nacelle. We took her into our shields and towed her with us. As a precaution, I ordered a scan of the starbase and it appears that she is in the hands of hostiles, specifically former IO Gordon Walker." Spock completed his report as Kirk wearily dragged his shirt over his head, fishing out a fresh shirt. "I believe Captain, it would be prudent for you to shower."

Kirk breathed a quick laugh. "You think I stink?"

"I have observed that a shower often improves the morale of the individual as well as demonstrating consideration for those who have to work in close proximity."

"Well, in that case." Kirk stumbled towards the shower, admitting that a pounding hot shower sounded nice. And if Spock suggested it, he definitely had enough time. "Wouldn't want to drag down morale through my insidious, evil body odour."

"Indeed. I shall have breakfast waiting, captain. It appears that we will need every advantage possible to overcome Dr. Gain, former IO Walker and their nefarious plans."

* * *

><p><em>Impala <em>

"I'm the goddamned CMO and you're going to listen to me!"

"I'm the fucking captain, I say I'm going up to the bridge and you're not going to stop me!"

"You shouldn't even be awake, you ass!"

"Yeah, well clearly I'm a freak of nature and it doesn't help that when I do wake up I find out that while I was snoozing nicely, the world went to freaking hell, so I'm gonna have to go fix it!"

"Well excuse me, Captain Impervious! Aren't we full of ourselves this fine morning?"

"There's no morning in space."

Ellen glared at her captain, who looked very pleased with that last repartee. "Sam," she begged, turning to the first officer, who was setting off every medical monitor hooked up to him by yanking off the little sticky pads attached to his skin. Taken aback, she demanded of the normally obedient Winchester "What the hell do you think you're doing, boy?"

Usually that tone of voice had at least Sam shrinking back on to the bed in meek compliance. Not today. He met her eyes solidly. "I'm going with Dean."

Exasperated, Ellen threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine. You will allow my daughter to do your fist-fighting for you. You will not set foot off this ship. And if you start bleeding internally or externally, you will come straight back here and we'll re-evaluate from there. Mess with those conditions and I will forcibly sedate you and leave Kirk to mop up the trouble on his own. _Am I understood_?"

Sam nodded emphatically and Ellen was at least satisfied that his colour looked much better, even if he still moved stiffly. And if she let one Winchester out, she had to allow the other one to leave as well. Sam would drag Dean kicking and screaming back to the infirmary if anything went wrong and vice versa. The best way to keep them in one piece was to sic them on each other.

Dean hissed at the bandages wrapped around his forearms and biceps. Ellen gently helped him tug the command shirt over his head. The fact that he accepted help meant that the wide strips of skin missing from his arms, chest and back had to be painful. Of course the stubborn ass had refused drugs. Smoothing the gold shirt into place, she let her hands tremble for a second, just long enough to let Dean know how close she had come to losing him.

"Hey, we got this," he said gruffly, wrapping a gauze-covered hand around hers. "Not gonna come back here dripping blood for at least a month, I promise. Not gonna die either." Sam hovered over his brother's shoulder, nodding earnestly, promising with his whole great big heart.

Then they were out the door and Ellen rolled her lips together in consternation. Damn the Winchesters and her own soft heart. She loved those idiots like sons and if they ended up dead, she didn't know what she would do.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Kirk! What kept you?"

"Winchester! Dude, am I glad to see you in one piece!" Kirk finished jamming a peanut-butter smeared piece of toast into his mouth to keep from asking something stupid about Winchester's health. Sure, Dean Winchester was in one piece, but he was whiter than a ghost and instead of his usual slouch, he sat stiff as a poker in his captain's chair. His first officer didn't look any better. Damn Kerlyn. Kirk was almost sorry the ass was dead in an instantaneous explosion, thus depriving Kirk the pleasure of kicking the shit out of him.

Shaking off morbid thoughts, Kirk refocused. "Seems that Walker's convinced Kerlyn's minions to take over the starbase – sensors are detecting Romulan and human life signs on the star base while the war bird seems to be manned by Romulans and one human. I imagine the traitor himself is standing by on a war bird to preserve his skin in case of a rebellion or something. Your long-range communications up yet?"

Winchester glanced over to Sam, who shook his head. "Yours?"

Kirk scowled. "We had to take out several key parts in order to get the sensor array up and running. I could order Scotty to reverse the process, but it'd take an hour or so and then we'd be flying blind. Are your sensors operational?"

"Kirk, the only things fully functional on this ship at the moment are shields, life support and impulse power."

"Damn."

"Yep."

Kirk sank back in his chair, thinking furiously. One war bird. Unknown number of Romulans on a starbase predominantly staffed by scientists and civilians. Starbase 4 wasn't manned by a strong security contingent, as they weren't anywhere near the Neutral Zone. Two very battered Federation ships, no communications.

Kirk wasn't seeing any expedient solution to this situation. If the _Impala _elected to chase down Walker and his war bird, she would do so on minimal sensors, leaving _Enterprise_ to sweep a rather large starbase. If events devolved to a hostage situation, Kirk might be able to deadlock long enough to send the shuttle-that-could with Bones and Spock to Starfleet. Sending the shuttle-that-could now would just result in Walker shooting it down. That, of course, was assuming they weren't too late already.

"Captain," Uhura reported, "we're being hailed by Walker."

Kirk sighed and waved a tired hand. "On screen."

Walker was smirking defiantly. "Fools. You're too late. I already contacted Starfleet, all worried and panicked, telling them that you two had sent me on with an antidote to this terrible virus. Honestly, I had underestimated how quickly the Admiralty would jump into action when I said the names Kirk and Winchester. I guess saving the Federation a couple of times does wonders for your reputation. Naturally, they seized the 'antidote' immediately and promised to distribute it immediately through all major starbases. That was when Starbase 4 was regrettably attacked by Romulans and taken over. They'll send a ship to investigate but of course by that point it'll be too late.

Once the plague spreads, Dr. Gain and I will reappear as the bastions of immunity in a world swimming in pain. Naturally, we will market our cure to the highest bidder, perhaps even take command of the races in this galaxy, especially now that you've so kindly taken care of that crazy Romulan for me.

You really thought you could _always_ save the world? And now the great Captains Kirk and Winchester have to watch their civilization fall, torn apart by disease and their enemies who blame them, quite rightly, for their woes."

Kirk gritted his teeth and scowled as Winchester shifted painfully in his seat, muttering creative and dire threats. This time there wasn't an enemy they could destroy to save everything. There wasn't a physical, tangible object to attain, defeat, acquire, an individual person or ship to bring low. The virus would run rampant through the universe and there was nothing they could do. By this point, the Federation would have had it circulating through at least eight major starbases.

"You're all going to die," the IO gloated, rubbing his hands together. "Finally, I will establish a galaxy where true humans rule, served by lesser races. Naturally, you lot are tainted but I'll spare you the quick death of a virus. You'll make such excellent toys, entertainment frantically scrabbling about in a galaxy under my control. It will be my intensely personal pleasure to hound both ships until you fall apart from exhaustion and I can take you apart joint by joint. But first, you will accompany me to Earth. I think you should see the wails of an entire planet in its dying throes. It'll be educational."

"Fuck," Kirk swore lowly as Walker laughed gleefully and Winchester glared.

Reality was harsh, cold and cruel – the virus was out and the Federation would fall as billons of men, women and children alike, all suffocated on their own blood to the laughter of a madman.


	15. Eye of the Storm

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p>The world was going to end and there wasn't a damn thing they could to about it.<p>

Walker smirked as the captains sat in stunned silence.

"You _really_ think that, don't you?" a light, nonchalant voice asked. "You really think you can poison the entire damn galaxy and then twist it around to your own ends. And I thought only Starfleet captains were that arrogant."

"Hey!" Dean yelped and flinched as cuts pulled against fresh bandaging. "I resent that implication and you weren't on this ship thirty minutes ago! When did you get aboard?"

Gabriel was leaning lazily against the _Impala_'s bridge railing, waving away Dean's demand and focusing on Walker. "Not now, Winchester. Walker, you didn't honestly think you could get away with it? I taught you everything you know and everything you know isn't all that much. Hell, you didn't even notice that I was among the _Impala_ crew when Vern captured us. And it was child's play to slip away in a shuttle while _Impala _and _Enterprise_ acted as diversions. Excellent job, you two, a bit over the top though. You didn't have to stick around until they were forced to blow up a minefield." The SIO winked cheekily at two reddening captains before returning to business.

"Starfleet wasn't sure exactly who to believe, but I pointed out rather logically that it couldn't possibly hurt to take an extra half an hour to test your little antidote," Gabriel dramatically threw air-quotes around the word antidote, "and to their immense surprise, the miracle drug they were going to rush into their star bases just happened to be the very virus they were afraid of. Now of course, they've packed it off to be analyzed and it's definitely not getting loose in any way shape or form. Ain't life funny like that?"

Disbelieving relief swept through both _Impala _and_ Enterprise_ like a cleansing tide as Walker swelled, sputtered and flushed a dark ebony-tinted crimson. "You, you, you didn't!"

Gabriel sighed melodramatically and shrugged. "I did. I left the bruiser captains here to do what they do best and that was chase your slimy, traitorous, racist ass until they caught you. Of course even their great talents can't be everywhere at once. Luckily, they had me because my job (and I'm exceptionally good at my job) is to jump to the end and stop the whole catastrophe train. Theirs is to smash the train apart and fish out the rats. And now they can do that with great wrath and vindictive glee, since the Federation is safe. Boys, Starfleet wants him alive but they didn't specify regarding health or wholeness of limb."

Suddenly Gordon Walker found himself far, far out of his depth, staring down the impressive phaser arrays of two extremely angry Starfleet ships.

"Surrender now," Captain Kirk grated out, "and I can promise you there won't be an 'accident' on the way to Earth. If we have to kick your ass before dragging you back to Starfleet, I won't guarantee your safety."

"Do us all a favour and resist so I don't have to do the right thing and let you live," Captain Winchester requested politely, every word cored with steel.

Rock, meet hard place.

* * *

><p>It was looking like a ridiculously easy battle for the good guys when seven Romulan war birds dropped out of warp. "I knew leaving that bunch behind was going to come back to bite me in the ass," Kirk sighed in exasperation.<p>

Dean shot him a dirty look. "You mean you didn't beat them up first? Why the hell did you leave them in one piece?"

"Excuse me for being worried about your sorry ass and running off to find you! And no, I didn't beat them up first 'cause I was pretty sure seven to one were shitty odds, even for_ Enterprise_."

"Well, isn't that just awesome. Now it's eight to two. Because those odds are so much better." Sarcasm, irritation and worry rippled off both captains, filling their bridges with tension.

For the first time, Gabriel looked worried, realizing what sort of a position he was in. "You two get out of impossible situations all the time, hop to it!"

Dean and Kirk glared at him. "Dude, I don't know about Kirk but my ship's currently held together with silly string and sticky tape. While you were off being clever, we were getting the shit kicked out of us. Please tell me you came to find us with a nice Miranda-class ship or maybe someone bigger like say, _Constellation._"

Gabriel shrugged airily but his eyes stayed serious. "Federation's busy putting out riots started when someone preemptively leaked the news about the virus. I was given a shuttle and a direct line to Commander Singer. That was how I managed to sneak on board while you were busy being heroic, angst-ridden and desperate."

"Terrific. Yet again, you're useless. Kirk, how do you want to play this?"

"Hey, I just saved the Federation as we know it! That's gotta count for something!" Gabriel squawked indignantly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yep, you're a big damn hero. Give the man a Kewpie doll, a nice brassy medal and break out the band." The crews sniggered. "If we don't figure a way out of this mess, you're going to be a _dead_ big damn hero."

Sullenly, Gabriel kicked at the floor. "Being a hero is overrated."

"Welcome to our lives," Kirk snorted.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Uhura, prep a long-range SOS buoy. Scotty, prepare the chaff."

The chaff was one of Spock and Scotty's experimental concepts – an idea that might buy them some time to run or strike preemptively. Various heavy elements, radioactive and otherwise, had been known to scatter and confuse even the most solid sensors. Naturally, Spock had been working on a compensation filter for the _Enterprise_, her instruments easily compensating.

Therefore, when Spock sprayed a pulverized mist of the stuff into space between _Enterprise_ and her enemies, it boggled the Romulan sensors just long enough for _Enterprise _to lash out with phasers and photon torpedoes.

"Winchester, get your speedy ass out of here," Kirk ordered tersely. The _Impala_'s shields weren't up to par, her weapons non-functioning and even if she was limping, Kirk was pretty sure Winchester could outrun the Romulans.

He was gratified to see that his friend didn't argue and the _Impala _raced away at warp 9.2.

"Good. Now. I believe Walker's ship is that one, right Spock?"

"You are correct, captain."

"We take out him first."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Captain, we are being pursued by three war birds."

"Good."

"Good?" Gabriel protested.

"Yeah, if they're chasing us, they aren't beating up _Enterprise_. Five to one is much better odds. Kirk will think of something. In the meantime, all we have to do is outrun these jokers to Earth."

"Warp core unstable, Captain," Sam reported calmly, fingers flying across his console in a complicated tango.

"Hold her together, Sammy. She's gotta make it."

"Warp core _unstable_? Even I know that if the warp core's unstable, we're a hair away from blowing up everything in this quadrant of space!"

The crew smirked grimly as a whole. Clearly Gabriel was new to _Impala_'s way of doing things. "If we blow up, we'll take the Romulan bastards with us," Dean stated with cool certainty.

"Oh, well in that case, great. That's just fantastic. Kamikaze, that's us."

"Will you shut up? We aren't dead yet!"

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Crossing his arms, Kirk took an at-ease stance on the bridge, staring speculatively at the screen, a lone pillar of stillness on the frenzied bridge as Sulu struggled to hold the ship together, Chekov hammered their numerous targets, Scotty squawked over the comm, Uhura's chattering stream of information floating about everyone's ears, Spock rerouting power from failing, battered couplings.

"Uhura, hail the lead ship. When Walker answers, I want to be broadcasting on an open channel," Kirk ordered suddenly. She was the only one who paused in what she was doing before flying to complete her captain's command. The usual bridge curiosity had no place here.

"Chekov, initiate the self-destruct."

That yanked all activity on the bridge to a halt for a brief nano-second. "Ser?"

"You heard me."

"Yes ser. Self-destruct actiwated. Avaiting your countdown."

Walker appeared onscreen, wide-eyed and more than a little panicked. His ship was falling apart at the seams, having taken the brunt of _Enterprise_'s wrath. "Kirk. Are you willing to surrender?"

Captain James T. Kirk moved to the front of the bridge, Spock at his shoulder in a show of solidarity, a striking contrast to a fumbling Gordon Walker, the lonely human on a ship of enemies. "Your ship is lacking warp drive. Your shields are failing. And I am utterly determined to see all of you dead, even if it costs me my ship and crew. Your sensors should be registering our self-destruct. Stand down, surrender yourself and your ship and I will halt the countdown at ten seconds until Starfleet arrives to take custody." Kirk's voice carried all the chill and implacability of a glacier.

Walker paled to an ashen cocoa. "You wouldn't."

"You have one minute to decide. Chekov, set our destruct at one minute twenty seconds. I believe at current strength, our shields will hold against your full-strength barrage for…"

"Tree minutes, ser. Self-destruct set at one minute, tventy seconds, ser."

"Thank you, Mr. Chekov."

Gordon Walker glanced about uneasily. Two of his allies jumped to warp, deserting the field of battle. A third was edging backwards, reluctant to be in the area. "You will take the star base with you. It'll be completely destroyed. Starfleet won't stand for it."

Kirk laughed. "I'll be dead. I won't give a damn. And I'm pretty sure the scientists in that base would rather be dead instantaneously than suffer at the hands of your Romulan buddies."

"Vone minute to self-destruct," Chekov announced with admirable calm.

"Well, Walker?"

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Hold it together baby, just a little bit more," Dean coaxed under his breath as Sam sweated at his console, exchanging very complicated information in an incomprehensible verbal shorthand with Ash, who had stopped swearing, all of his considerable talents focused on convincing the _Impala_ that she really did want to stay at warp 9.3.

"Ten minutes to Earth," Castiel reported.

"We aren't going to make it, unless," Sam smacked an extra few buttons and the ship shuddered before suddenly running far more smoothly.

"Sam?"

His brother shrugged, carefully balancing power levels. "I disabled the ship's built-in buffers and safety limiters. She'll make it to Earth now but whether or not we manage to make it out of warp in the right place or in one piece is entirely up to Castiel."

The pilot rolled his eyes in exasperation as Dean gritted his teeth.

"The buffers that automatically keep the ship from, say, running right through Earth and wiping out both the _Impala_ and an entire planet? The ones that regulate power flow to the warp core? The ones you can't reapply unless you're in space dock?" Gabriel ventured in disbelief.

"Those are the ones," Sam confirmed absently, "but I've got a handle on the warp core and Cas is good at what he does. We'll be fine. Probably."

"Probably," Gabriel repeated faintly.

"Captain, war birds breaking off pursuit," Ash stated calmly, "and returning to Romulan space at maximum warp."

"Cas, bring us down to impulse. And don't put us through Jupiter or something."

In a display of masterful skill, Lieutenant Luke Castiel brought his wounded ship out of warp at screaming speeds, weaving around moons and planets with a delicate touch, easing on the brakes until the _Impala_ could screech to a halt beside Saturn. The arrested momentum threw everyone except Castiel forward in their seats with a thump as the port nacelle cracked again, Sam forced an emergency warp-core shutdown and the shields sputtered, finally giving up the ghost.

The _Impala_ hung silent in space with her fragile crew still alive.

"Excellent job, Lieutenant, Commander," Dean complimented with rare correct form. "Sam, dial Earth and tell them they have a star base to liberate."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Self-destruct in forty seconds, keptin," Chekov reported.

Walker was sweating profusely now as his crew looked increasingly edgy and mutinous. "All right, all right, we surrender!"

"Mr. Chekov, reset self destruct for two minutes, thirty seconds. We will disable the self destruct once Walker and the Romulans are unarmed and in our possession. Mr. Scott, prepare to beam our prisoners to the brig."

"Aye, capt'n."

"Yes ser."

It was a smooth prisoner transfer. The Romulans and Walker were stripped, searched and held in the brig. Kirk promptly had them gassed with a simple sedative. It wasn't strictly code, but the way his week had been going, if he didn't enact preventative measures the prisoners would break out and succeed in taking the _Enterprise_. The self-destruct was quickly disabled by a very happy Chekov, who, upon commendation for his professional manner, freely admitted in Russian-thickened English that his fingers had been shaking the whole time.

"Cupcake," Kirk demanded briskly, striding through his ship with a burgeoning sense of accomplishment, "do you think you have enough men to sweep the star base and suppress the Romulans?"

The big, burly security chief shook his head. "Sorry captain. If we didn't have civilians to worry about sir, I'd say I do. But as it is, even if we pull the senior bridge crew, the star base is too big. We couldn't lock down the entire base. Additionally, Dr. McCoy threatened me and my men with castration if we allowed you off the ship. I believe he was quite serious sir, and with all due respect, I don't want to test him."

Kirk didn't know whether to be flattered at the concern or worried about the chain of command on his ship.

"Captain," Uhura called over the comm, "I am receiving communication from Starfleet." Striding onto the bridge, Kirk plopped into his chair with a tired sigh, tension draining from his shoulders, too weary to care about protocol.

"On screen."

Admiral Pike was scowling ferociously and Kirk tried to straighten up a bit. "Don't bother Kirk," the admiral waved off, clearly trying to rein in his poor temper. "You're not in trouble. The Intelligence Office, on the other hand," and the scowl returned. Kirk did not want to be in their shoes. "More to the point, reinforcements will be arriving within the hour to begin relieving _Enterprise_. _Constellation_'s ETA is four hours and when she does arrive, you will be put on standby. Winchester sends his regards."

* * *

><p>Clearing up the mess was an involved, tedious and annoying process. Three days after Walker had surrendered, Kirk washed his hands of the over-enthusiastic, rookie captains fighting over who got to claim glory for arriving to help first and took his battered ship with Walker in the brig back to Earth. He figured it was for the best, considering a usually unshakably calm Sulu had actually threatened a superior officer with a reprimand if he didn't smarten up, Spock looked like he was fraying around the edges (which translated in human terms to feeling as frazzled as an irritated, wet tiger) and Kirk had almost gotten into a shouting match with one stupid rookie who had wanted to send all the Romulans back through the Neutral Zone in life pods (which might have been a worthy punishment because it would take them about ten years to get to a habitable planet but at the same time any of their potentially eavesdropping friends could pick them up and then they'd be free again). Kirk decided to let stiff, unfriendly Captain Poole handle the idiots.<p>

When the _Enterprise_ finally docked at home, there was a hero's fanfare waiting but most of the exhausted senior crew didn't bother even leaving the ship until they could sneak off in shuttles. Just to be on the safe side, Chekov and Scotty had shipped off in a cargo bin, to Kirk's amusement. For Kirk's part, once the ship was empty of everyone except Bones and Spock, he passed out in his bunk and didn't wake up until McCoy rudely barged in twelve hours later.

"What, Bones, what the hell, I'm sleeping!"

"You're coming with me."

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "That's nice. Where are we going?"

"The Winchester house."

"Why?"

"Because Ellen wants my opinion on the Winchester idiots' condition and I'm still not happy with your ribs. If I keep you close, the likelihood of you doing something retarded is lessened. On top of that, you need to get out of this ship and you won't have to worry about the media. John will run off any reporters for us with glee."

* * *

><p><em>Winchester House<em>

"_Get lost and stay lost_!" the grizzly bear sometimes known as John Winchester roared at the skinny, fashionably dressed reporter frantically skittering down the front walk, barely glancing at Jim as he ran by.

John's thunderous scowl lightened as he spotted the battered _Enterprise_ captain. "Jim! Bones! Come on in! No reporters allowed here, you'll be safe." Finding himself hustled inside and planted on the couch beside a relaxed Dean before he could blink, Jim sank back into the cushions with a sigh of relief. A big plate of nachos piled with beef and smothered with cheese landed in his lap as Sam waved from his favourite big puffy armchair while Bones began hovering and scanning with the ever-present tricorder.

"Hey, glad to see everyone's alive and in one piece," Jim greeted casually.

"Mostly, anyway," Dean winced as he flipped the vid channel and Jim swallowed a surge of hot anger on spotting the wide white bandages still wrapped around his friend's forearms. He realized he didn't want to know what John's reaction had been upon hearing the story.

They settled in to idly watch football, Dean occasionally flicking peanuts at the screen when a poor play was made. "So," Sam began casually, "what's the news?"

Jim sighed. Better get it over with. "IO's in huge shit and the Admirals are demanding an inquiry into IO's operations. Gabriel's up for a commendation. We're up for commendations. The crews are up for commendations. Commendations all around!"

"Again?" Dean whined. "Ugh, more medals, hand-shaking and ass-kissing."

"Yep," Jim shuddered. "Ceremony and all. Maybe the world will need saving before then."

"That won't help, they'll just give us another commendation. We'd have to make them mad at us."

"Maybe we should try being villains then. Keep with tradition maybe and get Scotty to test out a transporter theory on Chandra's new Bernese mountain dog. Anyway, Walker's going away for life on Pluto. Vern's being shipped back to Romulus."

"What?" Sam squawked. "The bastard's going home to his own people?"

Bones interrupted with a neutral "Romulans believe in the death penalty whereas Starfleet does not. And once they realized that the virus had been aimed not only at humans but Romulans as well, the council wasn't too happy with him. He'll be dead in two months." Jim couldn't figure out if Bones was pissed about the death penalty or just glad Vern wouldn't be coming back to threaten anyone else.

"Oh." Sam subsided.

"The lovely and esteemed Dr. Gain," Jim swallowed a mouthful of nachos and hoped it wouldn't come back up after he finished giving the bad news, "has vanished. Yet again. We could not account for her death and given her resourcefulness in the past, I can't imagine she's dead."

"Gain's the bitch who drugged my boys?" John growled from his battered leather armchair. Jim nodded, reaching for a beer and grinning innocently at an irritated Bones, who couldn't technically stop his captain.

"Huh. Maybe I should – "

"Dad," Sam broke in, "you could, but you're not going to. We can take care of her ourselves legally. That way she gets dragged through the whole humiliating debacle of being lowered to the status of prisoner and then lives out the rest of her life in humiliation and degradation." There was a brief, intense stare-down wherein Jim realized with a jolt how alike Sam and his father really were until John backed down with an ungracious grunt.

"Fine."

Jim heard Dean's small sigh of relief. "World War IV aborted?" he muttered and Dean nodded once before chugging back his beer.

The afternoon passed quietly enough, Bones napping on the other giant couch and Jim joining in on the fun game of reporter-baiting. It went something like this: while John was in the kitchen or puttering about the house, Jim and Dean would stick their heads out, wave, smile, whistle, whatever, until some brave news-person set foot on the porch and set off the alarm. Then John came rumbling out to drive them away while Jim and Dean snickered behind their beers and Sam shook his head with a small grin.

Jim tried leaving in the evening to head back to _Enterprise_ but Sam and John wouldn't hear of it. Bones hadn't even tried to leave and sometime after dinner Spock had wandered in, sitting with immovable dignity on the floor and watching football with scholastic intensity. Dean just handed Jim another beer, said the Packers were playing the Patriots and wondered aloud if Jim was man enough to stick around to watch the insanity that was Sam and John going at it verbally over their favourite, rival football teams.

So he stuck around and they goofed off that evening and the next day and the next week and the next two weeks after that, regrouping because somehow everyone knew deep, deep down that this wasn't over yet.

* * *

><p><em>Starfleet prison<em>

"Useless _fool_. Now we've lost Kerlyn, all his resources and Walker. Additionally, the Federation knows about the drug. I'll have to start from scratch all over again."

A prison door swung open and a bare, green-tinged foot stepped over the dead prison guard.

"It wasn't my fault you wanted to work with an insane Romulan backer and a superiority-obsessed human spy."

Skeletally thin hands drew a white lab coat closer around a skinny frame. "Everything went according to plan until you couldn't execute my will. Intimidated into compliance and then shot by a single human, what kind of Romulan are you?"

"Is this really the place to discuss our mistakes? And I was not intimidated. I took the most prudent course of action."

"_Your_ mistakes. Your pretty words only reiterate what I just said – you're a coward."

"Puny human woman, do not test me."

"Or what, you'll kill me? Rape me? Scar me? Cause me great and unending physical or mental anguish?" A bird-like head tipped sideways in curiosity. "We've had this conversation before. I don't see why you persist in attempting to threaten me when you know you cannot scare me. Now move quickly and keep up, we must be punctual. You're going to listen on the way to the base. I have a new agenda. And this time we will not fail."

_End of Part Two_


	16. Darwin, Women and Mars

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p>"How exactly is it that you've managed to make it this far in life without Darwin catching up with you?"<p>

Jim Kirk flinched playfully at the barbed query. Bones had invented the concept of irritated, honed it into a fine art form and used it liberally with great proficiency. Although to be perfectly fair, Jim's half-assed plan to distract the very pretty, very cruel ruler of the planet they had formerly been negotiating with had resulted in him almost losing his head, literally.

Again.

Jim gingerly fingered the thick rope burn around his neck and grinned cheekily.

Bones glared and continued prodding at his captain. "Damn it Jim, even when you're mute you're a pain in the ass."

Jim thought about shrugging but figured his ribs wouldn't appreciate the effort.

"Of course you think getting lynched is an acceptable solution to a problem as long as none of your precious crew members ended up dead."

Damn straight.

"I swear, you have all the self-preservation instincts of a hormonal lemming!"

Hey! Jim took exception to that and expressed the sentiment through a snort.

"You're right, what was I thinking. Dean Winchester has all the self-preservation instincts of a hormonal lemming. _You _don't know the meaning of the word self-preservation as it applies to you."

Not true!

"Doctor, while your tirade is overly emotional, I find that the captain's actions over the last month lend credence to your conclusion. Captain, I have finished gathering the pertinent intelligence regarding today's events."

Wearily extending a hand for the PADD, Jim waited for his first officer to cross sickbay.

Spock eyed him pointedly and hung onto the PADD.

Jim glared.

Spock was impervious.

Jim tried to wave his hands around, only to have them smacked out of the way. "Stop that, I need to clean your knuckles right after I finish with your ears and manage to figure out why you neglected to turn on your brain this morning," Bones scowled and Jim wilted. Okay, yes, it hadn't been the most conventional plan but hey, everyone had made it out alive and the only person who'd been hung was him instead of the whole crew. And hey, he'd only been hung for a few minutes. Spock got him down before he suffered brain damage.

"Captain Kirk to the bridge, Captain Kirk to the bridge," Uhura called over the comm and McCoy shot the nearest speaker a nasty glare. Kirk shrugged expressively and scooted out the door before Bones could put the grab on him or worse, stick his captain with a hypo.

* * *

><p>Breaking onto the bridge and trying not to look as if a demon was chasing him, Kirk nodded gingerly to Uhura. "Sir, we're being diverted to render emergency aid to Delta 5-B."<p>

Kirk raised an eyebrow, silently asking for more information.

Uhura spun her chair around to face the whole bridge as Spock stepped off the elevator, a long hypo held delicately in his fingers. Kirk's eyes widened and he suddenly, unreasonably felt like his beloved captain's chair was locking him into one location with nowhere to run. "Doctor McCoy has informed me that he will not remove you from duty if you allow me to administer this anti-inflammatory," Spock recited calmly but with a concrete firmness that told Kirk there were only two options.

Trying not to gulp, he waved his first officer over. To his surprise, the hypo barely pinched and the bridge grinned at their captain's expense. Scowling at a highly amused Sulu, Kirk waved for Uhura to continue.

"Yes sir. Delta 5-B is suffering from some sort of crop destroying bug. It's highly effective. Delta 5-B put out a call for help when a quarter of their planet's vegetation was decimated. That was six hours ago and according to the last reports, they are now down to 65% viable vegetation."

Kirk whistled. "Indeed, captain," Spock agreed. "I am intrigued. Few naturally occurring bugs are so voracious. Uhura, this insect is not indigenous to the planet?" The communications officer shook her head. "Captain, I request permission to study this invader as soon as we make orbit."

Kirk nodded and wiggled his fingers about.

"Understood, captain. I will assign security teams to assist in rationing and crowd control. I am sure Commander Sulu and his botany department would be of great assistance."

Kirk waved about some more, feeling like an idiot.

"I do not know who else is assigned to assist. Uhura?"

"At present, the _Holden_ and the _Idaho_ are also rendering assistance but we are the only Constitution class vessel. If you deem it necessary, the _Impala_ will also be in the area."

Kirk nodded and pointed at Sulu, who swallowed a grin when he realized he easily interpreted the motions as "Lay in a course for Delta 5-B, warp 5."

"Yes sir. Course laid in, proceeding at warp 5."

Once the _Enterprise_ was calmly on her way with an ETA of four hours, Kirk admitted that a nap was perhaps a good idea and turned the conn over to Spock, who would use the time to research Delta 5-B, locally known as Corelis. He discovered that it had been one of the first planets settled back in the early days of galaxy exploration, picked by a rather conservative faction who chose to isolate themselves from the rest of the galaxy and live simply. There hadn't been any trouble with Delta 5-B until two or three decades ago when the Corelians grew dissatisfied with the Federation's open policy regarding "dangerous alien influences." Human terrorists had begun to use the pretty, agriculturally lush planet as a bolthole as bad blood bred between the Federation and the Corelians.

Spock paused in his perusal of the PADD. The Corelians were still technically members of the Federation, but they hadn't reached out for years, even when a viral plague had swept through their population and eliminated a full ten percent. Why now? The only explanation he could arrive at was that the sudden, horrific onset of the insects must have shocked the Corelians into action.

Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have the _Impala_ around as back up after all, just in case riots broke out or there was a plot of some description. Spock quietly slipped a note off to the _Impala_. Sam immediately replied back informing Spock that they were babysitting a very uninteresting deep-space telemetry project (and if it was boring Sam, the rest of the crew must be going crazy) and would very happily back up the _Enterprise _if needed.

Still, when they arrived at Delta 5-B, things ran as smoothly as one could expect a panicking planet of fundamentalists to run under the circumstances. Spock hadn't even needed to awaken Captain Kirk, which he would naturally be hearing about later. Sulu and Spock picked up their samples and quarantined them, the _Idaho_ dropped off her payload of food while the _Holden_ was assigned to long-time support as _Enterprise_ provided sheer manpower, medical assistance and organization. They were on their way within two uneventful days.

Had Spock been as emotional as Captain Kirk or Dr. McCoy, he would have said that the whole thing gave him a bad feeling. There was something off about the incident, something his thorough investigation had not turned up.

A quick trip to the botany lab resulted in Commander Sulu presenting the same conclusion. "This isn't something that just mutates over a hundred years," the pilot-scientist declared knowledgably. Anything related to plants, Sulu knew inside and out. "A voracious insect like this would have killed everything on the planet in its evolutionary phase and then died off. Additionally," and Sulu scowled, "it looks…incomplete."

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "An incomplete organism?" Sulu shrugged helplessly. "I can't explain it. Certain DNA helixes and processes are incomplete while others appear dormant and useless. And it's not like in naturally occurring organisms where dormant systems fall to the background or the rest of the organism works around the system. These are significantly hampering the day-to-day workings of the beetle." Sulu gestured to the microscope. "All I can tell you is that it's like the bug's only the carrier, like an empty bombshell, for lack of a better term."

"Perhaps it is a test run and the insect is missing a payload, to continue your analogy," Spock mused. "Has Commander Winchester come up with anything?" Sulu spread his hands in powerless reply.

"Then there is nothing more for us to do. We shall focus on Delta 5-B's shipping manifests, both legal and illegal, continue our investigation and attempt to contain the insects. Have you created a pesticide?"

Sulu shrugged in defeat again. "I have, but the only pesticide strong enough to kill these things eliminates all planet and mammal life as well. This bug was definitely engineered to be a destroyer."

Spock stared at the insect carcass for a long minute. "Very well," he said at last. "If there is nothing more to be done here, your presence will be of assistance to Mr. Chekov on the bridge as he attempts to extrapolate trader routes."

Sulu nodded and slipped away with a final glance at the bug. Spock was left standing at the science table, eyes roaming unseeing across useless, pointless data while glittering iridescent green, sharp-edged horns, glowing dead black eyes and a hard carapace seemed to mock the Vulcan science officer.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

To the _Impala_'s unending chagrin, the _Enterprise_ did not need their help. Thus they were figuratively marooned in the middle of nowhere, watching a baby space station of scientists scramble about to get their fascinating study of sub-space, sub-atomic particles up and running.

"Sam, tell me, how is this particular little experiment vital to _anything_ in life?" Dean begged his brother, looking for any sort of justification for their cruel and unusual punishment as he and Ash played solitaire on the bridge (Sam and Jo had banned poker after Dean and Ash's little game of bridge-side strip poker had gotten busted by Admiral Chandra).

Sam rolled around in his chair, acting highly unprofessional and very out of character. "It's not. At all. In maybe sixty years when we can actually make use of the research, it'll change the face of science as we know it. Until then, all these brainiacs with a marginally better understanding than your average genius will sit out here catching glimpses of something they barely understand and feel extremely smart and self-justified when they could be doing something far more practical and life-saving."

The bridge crew blinked at the rather vehement speech. "Aw Sammy, are they smarter than you?" Dean drawled, grinning at the virulent bitch-face lasered his way.

"Intelligence cannot be properly quantified," Sam sniffed before turning back to his console.

"They are! They're smarter than you!"

Sam's bitch-face amped up to singularity level before he huffed and swivelled back to the more practical problem – the bug carapace Spock had beamed over. "You think they'd be better off trying to figure out why that bug's indestructible," Dean continued, less teasing and just a hair more serious.

"I do," Sam replied snippily. "People are going to suffer because of it. Their lifetime in a Petri dish isn't going to be useful. And they could get the recognition they crave by saving thousands of lives."

"It's all right Sammy. We'll let you, Spock and Sulu take the credit for this one," Dean consoled and laughed when Sam accurately pitched a stylus at his brother's head without turning around.

* * *

><p>"We're being hailed by the <em>Lugosi<em>," Sam reported with mild surprise (and no small relief – he was considering allowing strip poker again just to shut his brother up) two days after receiving the alert from _Enterprise._

"The what?" Dean asked sceptically.

Sam flipped through several Starfleet registers and when he came up empty, a few keystrokes had him dipping into less legal channels. "Um, it's a single-pilot trader registered to a Bela Talbot. She's wanted for no less than fifteen or so charges of grand larceny but there's never been enough evidence to convict. Additionally, she's never stuck around long enough to end up in court."

There was a pause on the bridge. "So why the hell is she hailing a Starfleet vessel?" Dean demanded aloud.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, but I'll bet she's gambling on our curiosity. We'll want to know what she's up to instead of just beating the shit out of her ship. You have to admit, we're somewhat predictable."

"What are you talking about, I'm not predictable!"

Were there crickets aboard the _Impala_, they would have been chirping noisily as crew members eyed their first officer cautiously, who shrugged.

"_Impala_? Are you going to blow me out of the water or not? Because if you are, can you do it now? I hate waiting," an irritated, cultured British accent demanded. Dean squared his shoulders and nodded to Sam.

"Open a channel. And if she's a pain in the ass, I'm so blaming you."

The view screen flared to life and the predominantly male crew of the _Impala_ tried very hard not to let their tongues hang around their ankles. A lovely brunette with a killer figure wrapped in black piloting leathers crossed her booted legs sensually and smirked. "There you are. My, you _are_ a good looking bunch. Bela Talbot. And I presume you're the infamous Captain Dean Winchester?" A thread of disdainful amusement rippled through her chuckle and set Dean's hackles up as he scowled.

"Yeah, what do you want?" he demanded, settling into his chair with all his manly authority drawn around him like a protective cloak.

Talbot leaned forward with a smooth lunge. "I have information that will save the Federation. Naturally, I'll be expecting to be paid for my neighbourly good will. You see, I can lead you to a dead planet. Those bugs you've all been trying to crack open? They just killed everything on PD-4503. I believe Commander Winchester has a probe floating in the atmosphere to register anomalous nitrogen levels. You should check it, see if I'm lying or not."

Dean cut his brother a glance. Sam finished tapping away at his console before turning to Dean with a tight frown.

"Dean, diagnostics on that probe indicate that it's running just fine but there's absolutely nothing alive on PD-4503. You know, the one you called the jungle planet from hell?"

"The one with the insanely tough blow-dart dudes?"

"That's the one. Dean everything, including the indigenous people, is dead. The atmosphere's toxic, the plants dead and there's an obscene amount of insect life registering. Mars pre-terra-forming would be friendlier than PD-4503 at the moment."

Talbot's smirk grew to satisfied, vulpine levels. "Shall we talk price?"


	17. Efficiency and Temper Tantrums

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

Bear with me…this chapter may be slow. It's necessary, but I'll admit there's little action - I gotta lay the groundwork. As consolation, Gabe's back! And he gets to meet Jim Kirk for the first time. Kirk who has heard the story about Cas. 0_0

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Dean eyed Talbot suspiciously. "Sam, you said everything on the planet was dead?"

"Yeah."

Talbot rolled her eyes and adopted a flatly bored expression. "I have proof, it's just large and immoveable; I can't pick it up and tote it along behind me. And as you're quite aware, vids are all too easily faked." She shrugged at the sceptical Starfleet officers. "Look, you don't have to believe me."

Dean snorted. "Who the hell said anything about believing _or_ paying you? We'll get back to you in five minutes or so. Screen off."

The crew glanced back at their captain as he furrowed his forehead, thinking intensely. Sam and Castiel waited patiently, Ash tapped hyperactive fingers on the edge of his console and Jo tried not to fidget with her knives (last time, the _Impala_ had shifted suddenly, a knife had accidentally planted itself point down in Sam's beloved scanner console and there had been hell to pay).

"All right," Dean said slowly, "this is how it's going to go. Sam, I want you to contact _Enterprise_, see if Kirk will lend you Spock and go investigate that planet. Ash, I need you to helm the _Impala_ and figure out who might have the means, opportunity and motive to pull this off. Jo and I are going with Talbot."

Sam looked like he wanted to object but held his tongue, seeing the practicality in the plan. Jo looked interested but Ash was definitely not a happy camper. Dean knew the man was a capable leader but Ash disliked the responsibility. "Just for a bit, Ash. And I think it'd be best if you got tangled up in a meteor belt or something, you know? Enough to keep the _Impala _ incommunicado. Then you and your information minions can do the remote hacking thing without interruptions."

Sam was already plugging a request over to the _Enterprise_. "Spock will be expecting me. Apparently he and Sulu are stumped." Dean nodded briskly and snapped his fingers at the screen pompously.

With an exasperated eye roll, Sam flicked the screen on. "All right Talbot. What's the information you've got?" Dean demanded sharply. The confident woman smirked.

"That's the spirit. I know where the relay point is. I've never actually met my employer, but they're always waiting for me on a little space station just this side of the Neutral Zone. Of course, the _Impala_ can't be anywhere near that area of space, so we're going to have to take my ride."

Dean finished what she hadn't said aloud. "You want to sneak onto the station, wait for them to arrive and then either hack their computer or stow away on their ship."

Talbot shrugged expressively. "It's a simple enough scheme, but generally effective. Of course, you're going to bring your big, brawny security goons to keep you safe so you should have nothing to worry about."

Jo snorted softly from the side and Dean had to squelch a quick chuckle. "We'll transport over in five. Winchester out."

"You sure you don't want to take a team of big brawny security goons?" Jo snipped, not really talking to Dean, who was still amused at the idea.

"All I need is you, darling," he replied sarcastically as Jo grinned.

"Well in that case, _captain_, after you."

* * *

><p><em>Lugosi<em>

The _Lugosi_ was a clean, efficient, snappy little ship. Dean was hard put not to whistle in admiration as Jo easily cased the joint.

"Only the two of you?" Talbot's voice asked over the intercom. "Well, makes no difference to me. We're jumping to warp 7.5. Fastest private ship in the quadrant," she finished with a boast.

Jo and Dean would have been suitably impressed had Talbot not been so irritating about the whole thing. The Federation kept close tabs on the high-powered, unstable dilithium crystals that powered Starfleet ships after one too many explosions by idiots who didn't know how to use them. Still, warp 7.5? "Even _Enterprise_ could blow by that speed without breaking a sweat and she should know that," Jo muttered.

"Don't let Kirk hear you say that. _Enterprise_ is still the second-fastest ship in the fleet. And play nice until we're on the bridge. Talbot could vent this part of the ship if you piss her off," Dean scolded gently, heading for the lift. "Still, you have a point. It's going to be a damn long ride to the Neutral Zone."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"So Dean thinks the planet could provide answers," Kirk mused.

Sam shrugged. "At the very least, more data is always desirable, even if we don't understand how it fits into the picture at this point in time. If Spock, Sulu and I could investigate the planet, we might find something."

"The planet's been untainted by other investigators and skeletal vegetation should be able to tell us much more than carnivorous bugs, not to mention we still need to come up with something that will kill the little suckers," Sulu nudged.

"A shuttle would be sufficient, Captain," Spock added in his two cents.

Kirk studied the trio of intrepid scientists in front of him, trying to avoid the mental image of three excited scent-hounds, tails wagging hopefully. "All right. I suppose the three of you can look after yourselves and you make a good case. Take the _Galileo_. I'll expect you back in three days. Check in every twenty four hours."

The _Galileo_ had just blipped away at warp 5 when an urgent communication came in. "Sir, Admiral Pike is sending a subspace data stream regarding a break out," Uhura reported calmly. "It seems that Gordon Walker has successfully escaped the penal colony on Pluto. It may or may not be linked to Vern's escape three months ago."

Kirk scowled. "I don't like this," he muttered. "Monster bugs, break outs from Pluto, dead planets and no one has any idea about what's actually going on. Tell Pike we're on it. Crowder, take us to warp 8. I want to track all ion trails around Pluto ASAP."

"Understood, captain." Kirk eyed Lieutenant Crowder speculatively. The kid was the second bridge crew's pilot and decent at his job, but judging from the slightly nervous quaver in his voice, Crowder wasn't exactly comfortable filling Sulu's very skilled, intimidating shoes.

Maybe letting his ace pilot scamper off to study bugs hadn't been the greatest plan.

* * *

><p><em>Galileo – three hours later<em>

"Damn," Sam swore as he surveyed the planet below. When Dean's away team had gotten off on the wrong foot with the natives, the atmosphere had been moisture-rich and warm, jungle sprawling all over the place, alive with wildlife, greenery and flowers. Yes, the place had been hazardous to anyone not paying attention (and Dean hadn't been paying attention until he was almost eaten by a giant carnivorous plant), but it hadn't been maliciously dangerous. The planet had been vibrant and healthy, the people managing their environment well. And once Sam realized that the _Impala_'s scientists had accidentally been rooting around in the native equivalent of a graveyard and apologized profusely, the natives had been rather cordial.

Now? It was a grey-black ball of rock hanging in space. Sam peered at his screen a little closer, zooming in. He realized with a clenching twist in his gut that the black masses were _moving_, and moving quickly.

"Well, that planet's never going to support indigenous life again," Sulu reported bitterly. "There are definitely no sentient survivors. Atmosphere's toxic due to windstorms generated by the sudden imbalance resulting from no vegetation. Soil's being lost on a massive scale. And somehow the bugs are still alive."

"And yet we are missing something," Spock mused. "The ratio of insects to vegetation prior to the insects being introduced is off."

Sam scowled at the numbers. "You're right. The bugs could have definitely stripped the vast majority of deciduous vegetation but the tree trunks and other stronger organic material would still be present. Unless there were more insects to begin with and something has been killing the bugs."

"Negative," Spock replied absently. "Whatever would be lethal to the bugs would have evidenced itself in abnormal readings."

The transporter pad on the shuttle whirred to life and Sulu was soon poking away at a living specimen. "Commander Spock," he called and the Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "I think I've got something."

The DNA of the offending species was laid across the computer screen. By now, it was a very familiar sight but this particular specimen had a few extra additions.

"Someone filled its 'payload,'" Sulu pronounced gravely.

* * *

><p><em>Lugosi<em>

"Well, you weren't kidding about the teeny tiny space station," Dean muttered. "Looks about the size of the _Impala_."

Talbot stretched luxuriously in her chair, cramped after the five hour drag to their destination and very conscious of the effect she was having on a red-blooded, womanizing captain. Dean Winchester blinked, swallowed hard and tried to discreetly study his boots, wise enough in the ways of the world to recognize a woman who would eat him alive and then strip-search his poor rattling skeleton for loose change.

Jo was not nearly as impressed and it showed in her cool professionalism. "You're not setting your autopilot. Planning to skip town?"

The quasi-legal pirate smiled languidly. "Who says I'm coming? You pay me, I get out of here, you can be the heroes and head off into the unknown danger. That's what Starfleet keeps you muscle-heads around for after all, isn't it?"

Dean glanced at his security chief and shrugged.

Said security chief pulled out a very long, very wicked knife and stalked over to Talbot's chair, the sharp metal flickering through her fingers like a harmless pencil. "Sure, Starfleet keeps us muscle-heads around for that sort of stuff. But we muscle-heads, we just don't think as quickly as you. We _do_ know enough to make you come along. We could use a clever thief like you. Of course, if you cooperated we'd be far more willing to pay you than if we had to clap you in binders."

There was an awkward pause in which Dean crossed his arms and looked very sexist, enjoying the standoff between powerful women.

His amused chuckle broke the tension as the women turned their disdaining eyes on the captain. "I'm raising my price," Talbot stated calmly.

"Understood," Jo replied just as easily. "Hazard pay. I'm aware that working with him lowers your IQ level, you should be compensated. Park this thing somewhere it won't be found. We're on a tight schedule."

"Hey, captain here!" Dean protested.

They ignored him.

* * *

><p>Getting aboard the space station and hiding themselves had been the easy part. Waiting for someone to show up was the hard part. Surprisingly, Jo found herself to be the fidgety one. Dean could sit in one position for hours with all the calm patience of a hunter and clearly Talbot was used to being on the run, blending into grey shadowy corners, still as a predatory spider.<p>

Jo squatted where the captain had placed her, hands firmly jammed in her pockets to keep shiny knives out of sight while Dean and Talbot messed with the scanners of the station so that none of their bio-signs would register.

The whirr of the transporter had Jo ducking down as Dean calmly stuck his head around the corner. "Your contact?" he asked Talbot unnecessarily.

"Definitely. And he tried to skimp on my price after we struck a deal, cheap bastard," she sniffed. "That was the first warning that the job wasn't all that it seemed."

"Honour among thieves?" Dean asked in amusement as he took a closer look. Talbot breathed a short laugh but didn't reply.

The newcomers were not quite at Federation-standard when it came to technology and clearly new to illegal interstellar dealings, judging from their unguarded talk. They were definitely Talbot's employers and they hadn't used a go-between to ensure their anonymity like any half-decent crime lord running illegal Romulan ale. At the same time, these goons were thinking clearly, carried their rather nice phaser rifles with proficiency and if Dean was right, they were Federation-independent.

Great. Fundamentalists.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

SIO Gabriel was seriously regretting that decision he had made as a rash teenager, the one where he left Cas crying at the orphanage. Sure, he thought he'd been doing the right thing at the time (actually, he hadn't reconsidered the choice in years until he met his little brother again), but it had seriously come back to bite him in the ass.

You see, two of the Federation's most effective, efficient ships despised his guts just on principle. Unfortunately a lot of spies were paranoid about their identities getting out and refused to work in a fishbowl of a space ship. Gabriel had been tapped once more and when he complained, they threatened to bust him back down to training officer.

He thought working with the _Enterprise_ couldn't have possibly been worse than that. Clearly he was still naive, because while Gabriel found Jim Kirk impressive, strong-willed, charismatic and definitely competent, the captain was also efficiently freezing out the intelligence officer and possibly considering several highly illegal acts of torture.

It was making Gabriel's job very awkward.

"Look, I know you all think I'm the scum of the earth," Gabriel finally blurted in exasperation, suffocating in the sub-zero atmosphere and clinging to a fast dwindling hope that the pretty communications officer would let him escape with his masculinity intact, "but can we stop mentally dissecting the intelligence officer and focus on the escaped prisoner?"

Captain Kirk smiled sweetly. "Sure."

Gabriel made a mental note not to walk past any airlocks on the _Enterprise_. Or any photon tubes.

"We don't know why they broke Walker out. The man's a low-level spy with a few decent connections. Clearly they don't need him for Starfleet infiltration, they can't possibly dream of using him at all. His face has been entered in every known database within the Federation. So why Walker?" Gabriel breathed in relief as the intense _Enterprise_ officers turned their considerable talents to the problem at hand.

"Walker's loyal," Kirk noted. "Tested and true. Wouldn't spill his guts even in prison. So maybe they just need another patsy. Finding a clear-thinking radical willing to do anything is hard. Usually they're overly-emotional idiots all too willing to die for the cause. Chekov, how close are we to tracking his shuttle?"

The Russian shook his head. "Keptin, I need more information. Ve have no vay of knowing vhich wessel he took and the traffic near Pluto is surprisingly dense. At this point in time, ve have five trails to follow and tree of dem vill dissipate vithin six hours."

Kirk pursed his lips. "Any way of getting a few other ships to track down the other trails?"

"I am afraid not, keptin. Only science wessels and deConstitution class ships hev de sensor capacity to follow de trail. Science wessels are not interested in Pluto and de other Constitutions are out in deep space." Chekov shrugged apologetically.

"SIO. Can you get us any more info?" Kirk demanded brusquely. Gabriel tapped away at his PADD, cursed and then punched in a few threats to his contacts.

"Not good," he finally reported and the _Enterprise_ crew glowered at him. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger! There's someone at the top blocking me. Like, _way_ at the top. Far enough that you will probably never get a warrant to even tap their most outlying resources."

Dr. McCoy jumped in before Kirk could open his mouth. "Not yet, Jim. We're not sure what's going on and if you sic Chekov on these individuals, it could end badly."

Gabriel blinked. "Whoa, no hacking! This security is way out of your league, kid!"

Several soft snorts around the table accompanied Chekov's smug smirk. "I hev not yet met a code I cannot hack. Perhaps you hev heard of de Circular Wirus? It vas inwented in Russia." He settled back in his seat. "However keptin, I do agree vith Dr. McCoy. I vill gladly hack dat code if you ask it of me, but I cannot guarantee dat they vill not track it back to _Enterprise _and I vill most likely need her supercomputers to accomplish anythink. If dey get an attack into dose, ve vill be wery, wery dead in space."

Gabriel was impressed. This kid had written the virus that tied Starfleet in knots for a week? Damn. He was pulled back to the discussion when Kirk scowled, drumming a hand on the table, clearly thinking from one of his insane, freaky perspectives. "Scotty," the captain finally began slowly, "do you think you and Chekov could program probes to track the trails?"

Heads swivelled towards the fiery engineer, who looked thoughtful. "Aye, I do believe we could, hey laddie?"

Chekov scribbled away madly at his PADD. "Preliminary indications are decent. I believe ve could have it up and running in tree hours." He looked up at the captain with a sparkly smile. "Keptin?"

Kirk shoved back from the ready room table. "Do it. In the meantime, SIO Gabriel, you get to come with me. We get to track down a little escaped lamb and ask him why he ran away from us and what his owners want with him."

And in the face of Captain James T. Kirk's madcap grin, the spy known among his rivals for his cold, clinical approach felt more than a little shiver of excitement skip down his spine.

This was going to be fun.


	18. Hide and Seek

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

There may or may not be a ninja third cross-over in this chapter. :D

* * *

><p><em>Galileo<em>

"You have got to be kidding me."

Sam slumped until his forehead landed against the console with an audible thump.

Sulu wasn't much better, rubbing blearily at sand-filled eyes.

And Spock sat in front of his screen like a statue, eyes alone darting around the computer screen like it was going to give up its secrets eventually if he stared hard enough. "It appears that Alice Gain is an exceptional scientist, if an immoral and cruel individual," the Vulcan admitted reluctantly.

"It's like she mixed genetic engineering with computer code to create this indestructible bug," Sam said to the console, eyes closed.

Sulu groaned and checked his chronometer. "We have to check in with the Enterprise again in an hour and Captain Kirk says we're not allowed to stay now that they've got a bead on Walker."

Sam thought about moving but couldn't muster the effort. They'd been there for two days now and still hadn't gotten any closer to a solution. "At this rate, we're going to have to turn this over to the Earth-based Starfleet scientists and if they crack it they will be gloating for months."

All three scientists glanced at each other, Sam crooking his neck around to meet their gazes. "Never mind that they'll have had all the time and resources in the world to solve the problem, they'll just see that they've beaten us and should receive the Nobel Prize and a commendation from the new Vulcan Science Academy. Petty, desk-flying bastards."

Sulu was staring out at the planet when the shuttle's sensors beeped at him. Lazily glancing over and expecting their scheduled update from the planet below, he bolted up straight in his chair and flash-typed a long string of commands into the computer, the shuttle immediately shrinking back behind the planet's moon.

"Sulu?" Sam asked, suddenly bright-eyed.

"We've got company and it's not looking friendly," Sulu replied as Spock settled into the co-pilot's seat.

Sure enough, the small ship was an older model, battered around the edges and streaked with carbon scarring from battle. "That's the most generic star ship I've ever seen, complete with some very nice falsified credentials," Sam commented idly, tweaking the sensors in an attempt to pick up more information even as he probed the ship's license. "It's almost like they don't want to be identified."

"The culprits who released the bug?" Sulu proposed.

"Perhaps," Spock interjected, "and it seems they are scanning the planet."

Sam cracked his knuckles and proceeded to hack into the unknown ship's intercom system.

The hack fell into place just in time to hear that _"…the final test was a success. We can implement Plan Omega as soon as Starc returns from the station."_

A second voice suddenly broke in. _"Sir, we've been hacked!"_

"Shit!" Sam yelped and back-pedaled. He knew it had been a risk but figured it one worth taking. "Sulu, get ready to run for it!"

"Run where?" the pilot demanded sharply. "We're in a shuttle that tops out at warp 6 max!"

Spock wordlessly dove into the guts of the shuttle, sparks sheering off onto the floor as the Vulcan rewired, flicked switches and squashed connectors with inhuman strength. "Mr. Sulu, you should find our maximum speed has increased but you will have to fly prudently. I have unfortunately compromised the coolant system and life support."

Sam yanked his headset from his ear. "We're busted and in one minute twenty three seconds, they will have made our position!"

Sulu growled and the shuttle made a break for it. "Sitting here will just get us killed then." Jumping to warp was the work of an instant but they didn't dare relax once at top speed. The boosted shuttle would leave an ion trail wider than a Southern belle at a debutante ball.

"So where are we going?" Sam asked after a silent minute.

Spock checked their heading. "The only planet we can reach before the shuttle explodes is PC-3241."

Sam groaned. "Omala? Come on, I haven't done anything to piss off the universe lately! I'm not even running with Dean at the moment!"

"What's wrong with that planet?" Sulu asked, piloting deftly even as he shot a depressed Sam a curious look.

"It makes the Wild West look tame," the Impala officer said absent-mindedly, his black mood evaporating rather quickly as he examined the problem from another angle. "Actually, it's not a bad idea. We can buy a ship and book it back to the closest Starfleet base with the research we've dug up." He glanced at his two friends. "But first we're going to have to make you two look far less respectable."

Spock raised an eyebrow, silently asking several thousand questions.

Sam just bounced his eyebrows in amusement and started digging through his bag.

* * *

><p>Sulu stared wide-eyed for a long minute in the broiling hot sun, feet firmly rooted to the ground as people flowed around him until Sam smacked the back of his head. "Come on, quit gawking or you're going to get us all killed. Literally."<p>

The tall Winchester had displayed several unnerving negotiating, bribery and bullshitting skills when it came time to convince Omala's star ship control to let the _Enterprise_ shuttle land. Strangely enough, he was also the only one who had thought to pack a smuggler's outfit in his luggage. When Sulu had stared in disbelief, Sam had shrugged. "You've met Dean. Imagine tearing around the galaxy with him and tell me you wouldn't end up prepared."

Prepared was one thing, Sulu thought in amusement. And then there was Sam Winchester paranoid, which seemed to involve packing false identification, generic non-traceable credits, big boots, tough black cargo pants, and a very long plasti-leather duster that looked like something straight out of an old Western, complete with a long-barrelled, probably illegal phaser tied down to his right leg.

The planet's landing grounds were dusty, dirty and teeming with people shouting at each other, all pushing and shoving. Star ships landed and took off with alarming frequency and irregularity as vendors hawked their wares right near the exhaust ports of still-ticking ships, waifs and pickpockets running rampant. In short, it was the complete opposite of the organized efficiency Sulu was used to and he pressed his face up to the _Galileo_'s view screen to watch everything swirl around the shuttle.

Spock hadn't said anything as Sam came back with a sack full of slightly smelly clothing and the news that he had sold the shuttle.

"You sold the _Galileo_?" Sulu had squawked as Sam fried the computers and sensors with phaser fire, making it look as if pirates or smugglers had taken the shuttle in a fight.

"Scrapped her, actually. She'll be in pieces by sundown. Which is good, because if anyone figures out we're really Starfleet, our lives won't be worth a tinker's song."

To Sulu's surprise, Spock had quietly changed into the black leather outfit Sam had provided and mussed up his impeccable bowl cut without complaint. "If previous experience is anything to judge by," the Vulcan grunted as he pulled on his boots, "I have learned that the crew members of the Impala are uniquely equipped for this particular situation."

* * *

><p>So that was how Sulu found himself dressed like an outlaw and trying not to gape like a tourist spotting the Golden Gate Bridge for the first time as Sam yanked him through the crowds like an errant child. "Where are we going?" the Japanese-American pilot asked in curiosity, feeling like he'd just fallen into some kind of time machine.<p>

Sam shrugged, making full use of his height. "Don't know. Tell me if you see a fast ship." By that point, Sulu had gotten over his shock and was glancing around with excitement. This was beyond Federation control. Starfleet had bigger fish to fry, ignoring such dust ball planets and this was where the fringes of society were found.

He spotted several vendors hawking "genuine Romulan ale," dilithium crystals, Klingon ears (Sulu did not want to know) and various other illegal, faked items. People pushed, shoved and bumped, shouting and chattering at the top of their lungs.

Someone shoved him rudely from behind and Sulu stumbled into Spock, who caught him easily. "Hey, he pushed me!" a coarse, drunken voice broke the crowd and Sulu turned to spot the big fat owner of the voice pointing a stubby finger at the pilot. Sam turned with a hard glare as Sulu scowled and Spock toyed with his knife handle.

The troublemaker paled and moved off, mumbling about Sulu minding his manners.

"We aren't in Kansas anymore," Sulu muttered and Sam grinned.

Spock was confused. "We have not been in Kansas recently, Mr. Sulu."

Sulu dropped the conversation as he spotted a ship. "That one, Sam. That's the only ship I've seen so far that has the specs we need."

Sam checked out the dilapidated star ship. "It looks like some sort of bloated insect on death's door, Hikaru. Are you sure?" Sulu nodded. Sam shrugged. "Let's just hope it's for sale."

* * *

><p>As it turned out, the ship wasn't for sale.<p>

It was a charter, the captain snapped brusquely, and a mostly legal one at that as they stood at an outdoor café, haggling like fishwives over price.

"Fly us to Starbase 3 and we'll make it worth your while," Sam offered in counterpoint. "We need to be there sometime today and our own ship won't make it off the planet."

The tall captain with his wild shock of dark brown hair and sharp eyes stared in no small disbelief. "You want me to pull right up to Starbase 3, under the nose of Starfleet itself and drop you off there?"

"Indeed," Spock intoned with finality and the captain blinked, making a rather astute connection.

"You're no Romulan, despite what your ears say."

Sam's friendly face hardened around the edges. "Right now we're just three independent traders looking to get to Starbase 3. Am I right in assuming you usually don't want to know anything more than that?"

The captain scowled. "You're right, I don't want to know and I seriously doubt you can pay me enough to take you."

Sam thumped the case of credits down on the dingy café table. This captain seemed like a decent sort if Sam's read on the man was right and so far Spock actually seemed to like him. The credits seemed to help.

"Who the hell are you?"

Sam Winchester's angelic grin paired up beautifully with his reply. "We're just your average intergalactic heroes."

The captain blinked and shrugged. "Good enough for me."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Where the hell did the _Galileo_ go?" Kirk muttered irritably and tried not to glare at Spock's 2IC. The man may have served on the Impala and was better than most at ignoring annoyed captains, but there was no need to vent on the scientist.

"They haven't been destroyed ser," Chekov reported optimistically. "Dere is a wery large ion trail leading away to PC-3241 consistent vith shuttle core overload."

"Something Sam and Spock would try if they were being pursued. Omala's also somewhere Sam would go to the ground if he had important information and a failing ship. Enterprise showing up in orbit would just spook everyone. All right. Sam, Spock and Sulu are more than capable of looking after themselves. I'm confident they'll turn up in one piece sooner or later. In the meantime, we have an escaped prisoner to catch. Chekov, you've still got eyes on that space station?"

"Aye keptin. Ve can be there in four hours at varp 7."

"All right. Warp seven, Mr. Crowder."

The other trails had petered out – an ore trader, a prison transport heading to another prison planet without incident, etc. So now Gabriel was sitting in the rec room, diligently digging through prison data looking for some sort of hint that Walker had been communicating with someone outside the prison.

"How did he escape?" a female voice demanded and Gabriel blinked up at Lieutenant Commander Uhura. He would have been tempted to hit on her, but he didn't go after taken ladies and he was pretty sure that her boyfriend would physically remove Gabriel's head from his shoulders if he tried. Actually, Gabriel was wondering why she was talking to him at all, since she really didn't seem to like him at all.

"You're wondering why I'm talking to you," she said coolly and Gabriel nodded dumbly, hoping for an explanation. She sank into the chair across from him and stared at his face, leaving Gabriel with the disconcerting impression that she was peeling away the layers of his soul.

"Sure you're not psychic?" he cracked weakly.

She gave him a flat smile. "Not psychic. And while I seriously dislike what you did to my friend, I am also probably the only individual currently on this ship capable of untangling my emotions long enough to see the logic behind your actions."

Gabriel was very surprised, to phrase it mildly. Uhura struck him as a highly emotional individual and he would have expected her to carry anger around with her like a weapon. She glanced up from the PADD she picked up and shrugged gracefully. "I was given a rather sharp awakening about how my emotions can cloud my vision a few years back. Now I try to ensure that I see all possibilities."

That was it. She had to have some sort of creepy psychic skill. He'd have to be careful around her. Very careful.

* * *

><p><em>Dean, Jo and Talbot<em>

"Who's this Starc dude and why the hell does he think he's so important?" Dean groused in a whisper as he crammed himself further behind a big crystal tower in the unidentified people's ship.

"I don't know, but you'll find out in a minute if you don't get your enormous foot off my hand!" Jo hissed. Obligingly, Dean shifted and hoped Starc and his buddies weren't suspicious enough to scan the ship. Jammed between the crystal tower and his attractive chief of security should have been rather pleasant but Jo was like a kid sister, not to mention part of his crew.

"Where's Talbot?" Jo asked suddenly.

Dean's head snapped around on his neck. "Thought she was with you, you two having banded against me."

Jo grinned cheekily. "I was on a deep undercover mission, fraternizing with a potential enemy for the purposes of surveillance and subterfuge."

That was when Dean froze, eyes fixed on a point past her shoulder and Jo sighed.

"She sold us out, didn't she?"

"Yep," Jo replied with a resigned sigh.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Well that's interesting," Ash mused, stretching his fingers. "We got that last data burst from Sam and the planet they were checking out is completely dead. But Delta 5-B, the first planet attacked, is rebounding nicely. They'll have a rather slim harvest and Starfleet will have to continue to provide minimal assistance but by next year their lives will be back on track."

Castiel turned away from his pilot's console with curiosity. "Really," he asked in his not-a-question way. Ash nodded absently and flicked through the report carefully.

"I suppose we'll have to look at environmental factors next," Ash mused. "And someone better tell Bobby we may have to skip back to Delta 5-B, just in case _Enterprise_ missed something."

The bridge crew stared at him. "I know, I know, _Enterprise_ didn't miss something, but it's the only thing I can think of at the moment. Cas, we should skip that way at warp six, yeah? And Ensign Miura, draw up a comparison of the two plants for me. I want to know every factor those planets share in common and every way in which they differ. Cas, you have the conn. I need to think."

Everyone was familiar with this practice. Ash's brain was like a supercomputer – it ran on facts at an inhumanly high rate of speed, capable of considering any and all permutations and their probability percentage. Unlike Sam's thinking process, where the first officer leapt to the correct conclusion and proved his theory from there, Ash thought from the ground up.

He sat in the darkened ready room, flipping through all available data and came up with fifteen acceptable scenarios given the current knowledge base.

Unfortunately, only three of those scenarios directly benefited the Federation and the probability of one of those scenarios actually coming true was quite frankly, nonexistent.

Now Ash had to figure out the best plan of action to take.

He irritably kicked the captain's table and cursed an absent Dean before settling in to think carefully once more.

* * *

><p><em>Dean, Jo and Talbot<em>

"I don't know what they feed fanatic fundamentalists," Dean drawled, "but I'm more than a little curious. I'd like to be as big as the Hulk. It'd save me from getting this gorgeous face messed up by Klingons."

There were nine of them, scruffily dressed in leather and cotton in earth tones, phasers battered and scratched but in good condition. Judging from the way the captors moved, they knew how to scrap and even with Jo's freaky knife skills, they were massively outnumbered. Not to mention Bella Talbot aiming her pretty little phaser at a rather important section of Dean's anatomy.

Ignoring the phaser with a huge amount of will-power, he sized up the situation further. He came to the conclusion they needed to make it to the brig. Then the leader of this intrepid little band would go away and leave them with two or so guards, a much more manageable problem.

In the meantime – "Care to explain?" Dean requested with deceptive calm, gesturing to a rather blasé Talbot. She shrugged airily.

"They paid me right off the bat to grab the nearest Starfleet captain. You haven't shown me a single counterfeit credit. I'm a lady of fortune and go where the money leads me. Personally, I was hoping Jim Kirk would bite - the _Enterprise_ would sell for more. But I'll take what I can get and now all I have to do is lead my employers back to the _Impala_."

Jo snorted indelicately and Dean gave a lopsided smirk. "And what the hell leads you to think the _Impala_'s still where I left her?"

Bella shrugged. "Nothing. You'd just better hope she's there because if she's not, my friends here have no reason to keep you alive." She patted his cheek with no small force. "Now then, if you'd like, you can make me a better offer and I'll pretend to consider it."

Dean told her exactly what he thought.

The giant (shorter than Sammy, hah) leader – Starc? – thoughtfully smashed his fist into Dean's face.

Dean told Starc exactly what he thought.

Starc smashed his fist into Dean's face again and that was when Dean decided to shut up. Unfortunately, he was already fighting the black spots of impending unconsciousness floating around in front of his eyes. Another love tap from Starc ensured Dean was thoroughly out in la-la land.


	19. Skipping Realities and Boundaries

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural or Firefly.

* * *

><p>The <em>Serenity<em>, Sulu decided, was a tough old bird but she'd definitely seen better days. Mismatched panels, sparking wires, scuffed and scarred from phaser and gun fire, the ship was at the point where she was almost alive, determination and never-say-die driven into her very rivets.

One day, Sulu swore, the fledgling _Enterprise_ would have the same feel.

"Have you ever seen a ship like this, Sulu?" Sam asked, clearly searching his own memory for the specifications of the _Serenity. _As Sulu had thought, the _Serenity_ didn't look like much, but when he stepped aboard, the ship hummed with the steady whine of a well-loved engine. Granted, the ship seemed held together with determination, spit and duct tape but as long as she got them to Starbase 3, he'd praise the _Serenity _to the skies if Captain Malcolm Reynolds so desired.

"Nope," Sulu replied absently, searching his prodigious knowledge of ships carefully. "I've never seen this ship's make before. It's definitely not Federation, Klingon, Romulan, Orion…" His voice trailed off thoughtfully. "It's reminiscent of early warp travel – almost as if – no, that's impossible."

"As if it came from another reality?" a soft voice asked airily. "Mal didn't tell you, did he."

The three Starfleet officers spun around in surprise. A brunette, pretty but more than a little flighty-looking smiled at them. "I'm River," she pronounced, almost as if an afterthought.

"Steer clear of that one, she's special," Captain Reynolds warned with the barest hint of humour in his voice as he breezed by, carrying the aura of a busy disembarking captain with ease. "We're taking off in ten minutes so strap in. Kaylee says our inertial dampeners are on the fritz again."

Sam looked like he was going to speak up but the tough coffee-skinned woman who seemed to be first mate drilled him with a glare fit to rival Dean's and the first officer meekly subsided. It seemed that this ship was fiercely independent and assistance from strangers wouldn't be welcome.

So the three Starfleet officers parked themselves in a corner and sat on their hands. It was a new experience for them – a pilot and two first officers, waiting idly for the ship to take off.

That was when the ship shuddered and someone up in the cockpit swore. "Looks like we didn't loose our tail after all," Sulu commented lowly as _Serenity _laboured upwards.

Sam stood up abruptly. "I'm going to help in Engineering," he asserted and disappeared into the tangled mess of piping encroaching on the hold's door.

The ship dipped alarmingly and the first officer reappeared, looking harried. "Any pilots in this motley crew?" she demanded. Sulu's hand shot up and she glanced up and down in an assessing glare. "You'll have to do. Move!"

Sulu found himself shoved into a dilapidated, confusing bridge and jammed into a pilot's seat. He scanned the controls quickly and barely had time to grasp the most basic understanding before the ship shook again and his co-pilot, the pretty River girl, swore like a sailor and the _Serenity _swung about.

Oh. The trader ship that had been chasing the Starfleet officers had found them. Well, then. Sulu hadn't yet met a ship he couldn't fly like he was born to it and _Serenity _was no exception.

Between him and the remarkably talented River, they scuttled away at _Serenity_'s top speed before jumping to warp. "Where's Captain Reynolds?" Sulu asked as he glanced around, watching the first officer sit back in what might have been relief.

"He was taking care of the intruders who had beamed into the cargo bay. I've just heard that your green friend was pretty damn useful in a fist fight. Of course I told Mal River wasn't so good at piloting by herself just yet, but did he listen? Which is why I shanghaied you," the officer muttered, almost to himself. "At any rate, thanks for the help. The name's Zoe. You've met River."

"Hikaru Sulu," the pilot replied enthusiastically without thinking.

Zoe and River froze. "From the USS _Enterprise_? _Starfleet?_"

Oops.

* * *

><p><em>Dean and Jo<em>

"We are in shit."

"Thank you captain, that is an astute, revolutionary and astounding observation."

Dean shuffled around in his binders, glaring at the ceiling and ignoring his snippy subordinate, who was miserably prodding at a beautiful black eye. Oh yes, their captors had taken every single precaution in securing one of Starfleet's slipperiest captains and his security officer, probably courtesy of the mercenary Talbot.

Speak of the witch. She sauntered into the room with a satisfied smirk. "I suppose I forgot to tell you that I usually demand to be paid up front?"

"Yeah, you skipped that minor detail," Jo snarled from the darkest corner of the cell.

"Oh, my sincerest apologies. But you see, I was quite sincere about showing you the proof. I really do want to stop them – they intend to unite the entire Federation under one iron-fisted rule and I honestly can't have that. It would make my job non-existent. If everything is run by one central government and they're prepared to destroy entire planets to keep crime down, well then my life just isn't worth living."

Dean snorted. "Well isn't that a cute little speech but it still doesn't explain why the hell we're in cells and why you got us caught."

Talbot stared at him as if he were a simpleton. "Because if you're caught and they get the _Impala_, I still get paid. I'd steal from them but they've got all those lovely credits locked up behind a bio-matrix sensor and while I could probably crack it in a month or two, it's far more expedient to le them catch you. Trust me, I'll break you out once they think they've taken your cute little ship. She might get a little dinged in the process but we won't worry about the details."

"Assuming they find the _Impala_," Dean pointed out.

Talbot leaned up against the wall beside the door, supremely confident. "Oh, that won't be a problem. I tagged the _Impala_ right before we left. She's blinking in space like a great big lighthouse. On an encrypted channel of course, even your band of merry geniuses won't notice."

That was when the door slid open again and the leader Starc sneered at Talbot knowingly. "Never trust a woman. That was a very interesting conversation, _Bela_." He backhanded her into the force field and when she collapsed from electric shock, flicked the screen down for a minute and rather brutally kicked her into the cell. "Not going to help her?" Starc asked when Dean didn't bat an eye.

"Nope," the Starfleet captain replied coolly. "She's a big girl, she knew what game she was playing. Found my ship yet?"

Starc grinned toothily. "We're still en-route. But my navigator tells me that we'll lose the trail somewhere near a nebula field. So I guess we're going to need you to lure her out. Guess that means I can't break your jaw, as much as I'd like to, you arrogant Federation pig."

"Pig," Dean rolled the word around in his mouth, vaguely insulted. "That's a unimaginative one. Why didn't you go for a little more gusto? And aren't you going to monologue about how your cause is just and there's no way we're going to escape?"

Starc's grin never faltered. "Do I look like an idiot? I know your reputation, Captain Dean Winchester. I will not give in to your idiotic diatribe. You will sit here under heavy guard and you will not make any attempt to subvert our cause because my most loyal man here," he slapped the shoulder of the burly bear that had been glaring at Dean for the past two hours, "has orders to shoot your pretty little security officer in the face if you even twitch the wrong way. And trust me, Gerick has no qualms about shooting a lady."

One look into the face of Gerick the steroid-obsessed bear and Dean knew he wouldn't be trying anything at all until Gerick no longer had a weapon within reach.

Great.

All Dean could do was sit on his hands and rely on Ash to be his usual paranoid self.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Well, well, well," Kirk drawled in satisfaction. "Would you look at that. Little Gordon Walker running straight into suspicious company, deep in the Gamma quadrant."

_Enterprise _was hovering over a lost meteoroid bored through with tunnels. According to sensors, the meteoroid contained an entire base, shuttles hopping busily through space. It seemed that the masterminds behind the base had counted on the meteoroid's obscure location to hide it, especially considering that Kirk had to put his ship through two different asteroid fields following the ion trail.

"Kirk, this could be a trap," Gabriel interjected.

"Of course it's a trap," Kirk replied calmly. "That ion trail was wide, dense and as clear as day. Chekov, where's Walker headed?"

The Russian officer shook his head. "Ser, all I can tell you is dat he is inside de complex. Although it is wery strange dat Valker is de only human on the planet."

"Definitely a trap. And odd given that Walker's xenophobic." Kirk mused but finally came to the conclusion that all he could do was charge ahead and hope the whole thing didn't blow up in his face. "Gabriel, you and Bones are with me. Scotty, you have the conn."

"Aye capt'n," the engineer grumbled. "Can Ah stay down here and still have the conn?"

Kirk grinned and replied ruthlessly. "Nope, you can't. I know for a fact that the engines are fine. I need you up on the bridge."

There was a mournful "Aye capt'n," as Kirk strode towards the elevator. Away mission without Spock – this had better go off without a hitch or Kirk's first officer would wear his disapproving face for weeks. He alerted Bones and Cupcake to meet him in the transporter room for immediate beam out.

Kirk was beginning to think that Scotty's ability to drop his teams in the worst possible locations was some sort of warped gift. Sure enough, the away team materialized into the armoury of the little outpost, stocked with a motley collection of humanoid aliens, mercenaries, Kirk noted idly as he clamped a hand on Bones' collar and yanked him behind a set of lockers, laying down cover fire and hoping blindly that he didn't hit anything explosive. Getting blown to the high heavens would put a cramp in his style.

"Put down your weapons Kirk or I shoot my good friend Gabe here!" Walker shouted and Kirk cringed. Seriously? Was it too much to ask for the SIO to keep himself out of trouble? He poked his head around the corner and saw a resigned Gabriel with a phaser to his head, dull eyes meeting Kirk's with no hope.

Gabriel thought he'd leave the SIO to get killed? That was a real insult, one that smarted. The _Enterprise_ crew might not like Gabriel but he was the best IO specimen they'd met yet. Kirk plucked Bones' phaser from his hand and slid both weapons across the floor to bump up against Gabriel's boots. Cupcake's phaser followed suit.

Sticking his hands up with resignation, Kirk eyed the former IO with contempt. "Oh, how far the righteous have fallen," he sneered. "Hobnobbing with lower life-forms, Walker? That must bounce your little xenophobic heart over salted glass shards."

As always, Walker's temper was notoriously short and the phaser left Gabriel's temple to swing in Kirk's direction. Thankfully, the SIO took his chance and slammed his head back into Walker's nose, leaving Kirk enough time to smash an elbow into the closest Orion's solar plexus and snatch up the phaser rifle, spattering fire and throwing the room into confusion.

Bones had put down three other men and Cupcake five when a stun beam clipped Kirk from behind and the world went black.

* * *

><p><em>Impala <em>

Ash was fretting in the captain's chair, highly uncomfortable in that position of power. They had half the story and no leads to help them get the rest of it. So far, half the story was as follows: two days ago, Delta 5-B was hit by a bug that ate most of their vegetation but left no lasting damage (relatively speaking). However, a short time later, PD-4503 was completely stripped bare. Bela Talbot had offered to show the _Impala_ crew evidence of the plague and subsequently, Captain Winchester and Jo had vanished into thin air. Sam hadn't been heard from since he went off to PD-4503.

And according to the latest Starfleet communications, three more planets had been stripped of all life.

Now Ash had to make a decision – there was a chance that if the _Impala _came forward with the knowledge she had, they could make a significant dent in the insect plague, which was most certainly being used as a bioweapon. However, if they revealed themselves too soon, the masterminds might make alterations to the bug. And said masterminds could possibly have both Dean and Sam in their clutches and no one had heard from the _Enterprise_ in hours.

How the _hell_ did he get into these situations again? Ash indulged himself in a brief flight of fancy, a mental break as it were from the arduous job of saving the galaxy and his captain. If he had chosen prison time over joining Starfleet for that tiny little hacking venture (really, he still didn't understand why the quartermasters had gotten so pissed off, he was only boosting a few super-chips from Starfleet's most secure facility. Granted, said chips had the processing power to let Ash control most of the known Federation but still, it wasn't like he was going actually to do that) he would be out of prison and back to his old tricks.

He'd probably be dead by now, murdered by some client who wanted the guaranteed silence of the grave.

Okay! Saving the galaxy (again) really wasn't that bad!

"_Ash_," Castiel snapped his acting captain back to reality with an irritated growl.

Glancing up, Ash realized the decision had been made for him. See, there was this rather derelict trader headed on a direct heading for the _Impala_, despite the fact that she was hiding in a nebula cloud and only half her sensors were working due to Sam's genius. This meant that either the ship had been tagged by Talbot (highly likely) or Dean was onboard, piloting to the _Impala's _last known location and unable to contact them (which was probably linked to option one, now that he thought about it).

So did he sit here and play blind or come out and see he could assist his captain? "Cas, do we sit here like hidden ducks or do we go out and play?" he asked rhetorically, his mind already made up. The _Impala_ never did well with inactivity. Even if he was pretty sure he was going to get his captain's ship all dinged up in some sort of trap.

"Why are you asking me?" the pilot snipped and Ash decided Castiel had been spending too much time with Sam.

"Forward at full impulse, red alert," Ash ordered crisply.

* * *

><p><em>Dean and Jo<em>

Held on the bridge at phaser-point, Dean groaned when the _Impala_ slipped out of the nebula cloud. Ash, Ash, Ash, do as the captain says and not as the captain does!

"Aw, aren't they cute," Starc hissed. "Come out to play, curious as a helpless kitten."

Yeah well if Starc thought Captain Dean Winchester was going to just sit there like a great big lump and give that patronizing, stupid, begging speech in which the _Impala_ would surrender just to save his captured ass, the leader had another thing coming. And if he thought the _Impala_ was a claw-less kitten, so much the better.

He glanced back at Jo, who shrugged and Talbot, who looked positively livid, especially with that lovely purpling bruise across her cheek and chin. On the flip side, getting killed just to spite Starc was incredibly stupid and if Sam ever found out there'd be hell to pay.

How could he twist this shitty situation to his advantage?

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Okay, so maybe he should have just stayed hidden in the nebula cloud, Ash mused, second-guessing himself. Damn it, numbers never screwed with him like people did!

Because right now, he was staring into the heated glare of one Captain Dean Winchester, obviously being held hostage by this big muscle-bound jackass with a pretty crazy glint in his eye.

"Hey Captain, how's it going?" Ash asked casually, hoping for some sort of sign.

"Oh you know, betrayed, kidnapped, the usual." Dean's voice was taut with tension and irritated as all hell.

Ash scowled. So Talbot had been playing them after all. Now he just had to wait for the captain to say something self-destructive and stupid, so he could disagree and then they'd do something really stupid and potentially _Impala_-destructive to catch the bastard currently threatening Dean and Jo.

"Ash, if you don't surrender in ten minutes, they're going to kill Jo and I."

Typical. Ash took a deep breath to begin protesting Dean's order to fire anyways when Dean interrupted in dead earnest.

"I want you to surrender without a fight and let Starc's men onto the _Impala_."


	20. The Art of Deception

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural or Firefly.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ash, if you don't surrender in ten minutes, they're going to kill Jo and I." <em>

_Typical. Ash took a deep breath to begin protesting Dean's order to fire anyways when Dean interrupted in dead earnest._

"_I want you to surrender and let Starc's men onto the Impala."_

* * *

><p>Ash stared at his captain, catching the barest flicker of one eyelid.<p>

Dean had a plan.

"Yes sir," he replied crisply. "Any further orders?"

Dean was abruptly elbowed out of the way and Ash was left staring at a new individual. "I am Starc," the stocky, muscular man with flat grey eyes said, as if that should mean something to Ash. "You will all beam over to our ship within the next five minutes and we will take the _Impala _from you. We are monitoring you on sensors and should you take any action to sabotage the ship, we will kill your captain."

Shit. Ash could have screwed with every major system on the _Impala_ given thirty unwatched seconds. "Understood," he replied, feeling the acquiescence drawn from his throat with all the smoothness of shattered glass. "Lieutenant Castiel, broadcast ship-wide and order everyone to prepare for mass-beaming. No one gets left behind and no one tries anything stupid.

It was a credit to the trust every single crew member had for their captain. No one defied orders. Everyone materialized in the hold of the dingy cargo ship. "I do not understand," Castiel voiced in confusion, turning to his world-wise friend.

"I don't get it either, Cas."

Jo broke them out of the hold and led everyone up to the bridge in time to watch helplessly as the _Impala _jumped to warp.

Ash wheeled on Dean. Instead of a slumped, self-berating mess of a captain, Dean Winchester was muttering rapidly under his breath and typing code into the computer as fast as his fingers would run. "Ash, take nav. Cas, sit your ass down at that pilot's seat. Jo, get the crew dispersed. Bobby, I want this thing at her maximum five minutes ago. _Move_!"

Everyone scrambled to their posts.

The captain had a plan.

* * *

><p><em>Serenity<em>

Spock was assisting Captain Reynolds in clean up when said captain put a phaser to the back of his head. "Starfleet, eh?" Captain Reynolds said calmly. Spock slowly raised his hands. "Where's your friend? And don't lie to me, it's irritating."

"I do not know exactly," Spock replied honestly, "but I believe he was in engineering, offering his not inconsiderable assistance."

"Not any more," Sam interjected and Spock had to blink at the incongruity of a tiny woman holding a very impressive phaser rifle on a rather irritated Winchester. "Let me guess, Sulu got carried away?"

Captain Reynolds shrugged. "Pilots," was all he said, a wealth of information in that one short word. "Have any trouble with him, Kaylee?"

The pretty, grease-smeared girl shook her head, slapping Sam's shoulder companionably. "He was pretty good about the whole thing." Still, she kept the rifle trained on Sam with a level hand.

Clearly Sam's lack of resistance to a girl he could have easily overpowered earned him a few brownie points but not enough. Reynolds carefully turned so he could see both Starfleet officers. "So. What's really going on and why didn't you just call the bigwigs for a ride, since you're all intergalactic superheroes?"

Sam and Spock glanced at each other, prompting another nudge from Reynolds' phaser. "Again, no lies please."

"We cannot contact Starfleet Command because we do not know who we can trust," Spock began carefully. Sulu joined them, looking very pained as the pretty (tough) first officer had him wrapped around a rather interesting joint lock.

Sam took up the torch. "I'm sure you've heard about the dilemma facing Delta 5-B. We've been investigating and so far we've come across some rather explosive information that we need to see into the right hands. We were going to head straight to Starbase 3 ourselves, but as you've noticed, our new friends weren't willing to let us get away. Honestly, we didn't think they'd work that fast. It was supposed to be a simple run."

Captain Reynolds had only dropped his phaser after a slim, dark-haired man took his place, the new man far less comfortable with the weapon (a doctor?) and now the captain paced around to face his three captives. "And why the hell would you go to such lengths just for one measly planet?"

Sam and Sulu looked affronted. "One planet, maybe but that's millions of lives, each one valuable!" Sulu blurted. "And they've weaponized the virus. Right now, the virus simply destroys plant life. The planet should rebound in a season or so. But if this new strand gets out, they can reduce entire solar systems to balls of dead dust!"

Sam stared earnestly at the captain. "We just need a ride to Starbase 3. As far as we know, you've been involved in nothing illegal. Hell, we'll even recompense you damages to your ship. No one will know you took us on. The two of us can keep our mouths shut and we'll get Captain Kirk to scare silence into Sulu." The Japanese-American pilot gulped.

"So you'd tell your captain," Reynolds drawled.

Spock inclined his head. "Of course. However, both captains are trustworthy. Surely that is evident from their public actions."

"All their public actions tell me is that they're crazy."

The Starfleet officers couldn't argue with that point. There was a long, tense pause while everyone involved considered options and motives.

"We're not asking you to trust Starfleet," Sam said finally. "We're asking you to allow and help us to do our job, a burden we've personally taken on and accepted."

Captain Mal Reynolds stared searchingly at the three men in front of him. "Well?" he asked his crew. Several glances skipped around the motley assemblage of oddballs. No one seemed to have an opinion. Reynolds rolled his eyes. "River?" he asked wearily. "Anything…interesting to contribute?"

The pretty, air-headed girl floated up close to Sam, walking almost on her tip-toes. Sam blinked as she stretched up further and further, trying to get up on Sam's eye level. "Would it help if I crouched?" he volunteered.

"No," she replied thoughtfully and promptly ignored him, turning to Sulu who, to be perfectly honest, was looking a little freaked. Usually unflappable, this whole series of events was far, far out of his comfort zone. River tipped her head to one side before patting him on the shoulder like one would pat a puppy. "It's okay," she said with a sweet smile.

And finally she took a look at Spock, really looked before proposing a question that seemed to be composed entirely of numbers. Spock didn't skip a beat before rattling the answer back. River's eyes lit up and seemed to engage with reality, spilling out another long string of numbers and this time added in physics terminology. Back and forth, ping pong, like computers or maybe androids.

Sam of course, looked keenly interested, leaning over Spock's shoulder in curiosity as the dark-haired man let the gun's aim slip to the floor, also fascinated by the debate of sorts.

Sulu was left as the sole target of everyone else's stares. He shrugged. "Geeks," was the only answer he could come up with.

"And you're not one?" Reynolds shot back.

"I'm a pilot. We're our own special breed," Sulu parried, slowly starting to regain his footing in this Twilight Zone.

"I like them," River interrupted, drifting by under Sulu's nose.

"You like them," Reynolds repeated, incredulous.

River shrugged. "Help them."

"Help them?"

"Careful, sir. You're starting to sound like an echo," the first officer (Zoe, Sulu had heard the others call her) chided. "River has a point. They haven't threatened us and they haven't lied to us, not yet anyway. And we were trying to break that habit of deep-spacing anyone who pissed you off."

Captain Mal Reynolds eyed his wayward passengers with prejudice before sighing. "All right. But put my crew in shit like that again and I'll make an exception to the deep space rule."

Sam raised a hand. "What?" Reynolds asked wearily.

"If that's the case, you may as well put us out in a life pod now. We're uh…"

"We're trouble magnets, sir," Sulu finished boldly, firmly meeting Reynold's stare.

"Commander Sulu's vernacular is correct," Spock added. "Statistically speaking, the crews of either the _Impala_ or the _Enterprise_ experience on average 86.37% more conflict than any other Starfleet vessel currently in commission. We would most likely cause significant damage to your ship. However, we do require a ship. Leaving us in a life pod would indeed spare the _Serenity_ but cause the deaths of millions." Spock arched an eyebrow. "The decision, of course, is yours."

The crew of the _Serenity _collectively stared at the strange individuals on board their ship save one, who poked the doctor in the arm and grinned at the captain.

"I told you we should help them."

* * *

><p><em>Jim, Bones, Cupcake and Gabriel<em>

"Ow."

"Sit still Jim, you took a real knock to the head."

"No shit, Bones."

"Feel like you've got Danubian belly dancers on the brain?"

"Thanks, Gabriel, for that lovely image."

"Always happy to help!"

Kirk finally decided it would be a good idea to open his eyes.

His battered away team slumped in various positions around the grimy brig. Cupcake was covering the door, Gabriel sat halfway between Kirk and Cupcake and Bones, as always, was poking at Jim's many boo-boos.

Kirk hissed and flinched his head away from Bones' hand. Okay, so they were more than boo-boos. "That's what you get for being captain. Instead of getting stunned like the rest of us, you get your cranium rattled," Bones said unsympathetically.

"Who the hell is running this joint?" Kirk demanded (complained), ignoring Bones' diatribe.

Bones and Gabriel rolled their eyes in tandem. "Someone who left Walker in charge. They're supposed to come back in about, oh, two hours by my calculations, given Walker said they'd be gone three," Gabriel volunteered.

"Excellent. Two hours to bust out of here. Come on Bond, help me out."

"Finally! Someone who appreciates the classics!" Gabriel grinned, sidling over. "What's the plan?" he asked in a very bad Scottish accent.

"First," Kirk began conspiratorially and Gabriel leaned in. "Don't ever do that in front of Scotty if you want to keep your skin intact. Second," he glanced over to Cupcake. "Yo, Cupcake. You still training with Winchester's little blonde bruiser?"

"Yes sir." A rather sly and wicked grin accompanied the standard response.

"Excellent. I assume you've got us a way out. Bones, any contact with _Enterprise_?"

"Sorry, Captain."

"All right-y then. Let's sum up our day, shall we? _Impala_'s MIA, the science geeks are MIA, _Enterprise_ is MIA, there's an evil virus killing all plant life in the hands of as of yet unknown individuals who are most likely under the control of a very high up Starfleet honcho whose motives are unknown. Did I miss anything?"

Thankfully, no one added anything.

"Actually," Cupcake began, pulling out a little doo-dad that Kirk vaguely recognized as Sam Winchester merchandise, "if this thing's right, there's a large, constant power surge just to our right. According to Sam – Commander Winchester's database, it could be any number of things, including a virus manufacturing lab."

Kirk cheerfully cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together, ignoring the deep throb at the base of his skull. "Excellent. Huddle up. You too, Gabriel. This is how it's going to go."

* * *

><p>"Why do I get stuck with the meathead?" McCoy complained.<p>

"Hey, I was the one who figured out where the virus lab was!"

McCoy rolled his eyes, patting plastic explosive into place. "No, Sam Winchester figured out where the virus lab was. You just turned on the doo-dad and waved it around."

"I had the presence of mind to bring the doo-dad."

McCoy paused in his demolition job. "True. And you managed to turn it on."

"Hey! I resent the implication that I'm just another jarhead! I'll have you know that I'm a Ph.D!"

"And you wrote your dissertation on the continuity of war tactics from Alexander the Great through the World Wars up to and including the first encounter with the _Narada_. I know. Still doesn't mean much." McCoy sniffed.

Cupcake jammed a timer into the plastic with a savage punch. "Just because it's not a hard science," he muttered, "and you happen to be a security officer, everybody's a critic."

McCoy smothered a grin. He was probably the only person on the _Enterprise_ who knew they had a closet arts genius in their chief security officer. And Cupcake, bless his big ham hands, was just so easy to needle.

* * *

><p>Supervisory Intelligence Officer Thomas Gabriel and Captain James Tiberius Kirk worked surprisingly well together. They slipped through corridors, avoided cameras and slunk into shadows without a single word exchanged. It helped that they had come to some sort of silent agreement – Kirk admitted Gabriel wasn't the scum of the earth for one bad decision and Gabriel allowed that Kirk was usually right when it came to anything <em>Enterprise<em>-related.

Kirk held up a hand and carefully peered around the corner. Two hours of wide-spread sabotage and mayhem was culminating in this one self-imposed mission.

Gordon Walker was going to be captured by Jim Kirk.

And then he was going to be interrogated by Thomas Gabriel.

Rolling his shoulders easily, Kirk focused forward. He was going to have the pleasure of kicking the shit out of the escapee while Gabriel tried to convince the computers to tell him the identity of the individual directing this whole mess.

Doors hissed open and Walker waved off the personal guards. He was paranoid and didn't want the untrustworthy alien mercenaries seeing his great big secrets. Said paranoia worked in their favour. Unsuspecting, Walker moved easily through the hallway, tapping away at a PADD.

With savage glee, Kirk clotheslined Walker, planted a knee in the former IO's diaphragm and finished it with a brutal uppercut.

Silently, the unconscious man slid to the floor.

"Remind me not to piss you off," Gabriel muttered as he picked up the PADD. Kirk cracked his knuckles happily, feeling lighter already.

"That felt good. Got the information yet?"

Gabriel scowled, alternating between the PADD and the room's computer. "Give me time." Kirk shrugged and dragged their prisoner over to a chair, effectively searching Walker and then zip-tying the man to the nines.

"Got it. Let's roll," Walker said just as the base shuddered under their feet. "_Enterprise_?" Walker asked hopefully and Kirk shook his head.

"Too small to be _Enterprise_."

"_Captain! Come in Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy!"_ Uhura's voice crackled over the comms they had found in their little destructive stroll.

"Uhura! What's going on up there?"

"_Captain, someone's hijacked the _Impala_! She's firing on your position!"_

Shit. He hauled Walker up over his shoulder. "Move your ass Gabriel or I'm leaving you here. If they took out the Winchesters, _Enterprise_ is going to have her hands full."

"_I'm insulted Kirk."_

"Winchester?"

"_Dude, they did_ not_ hijack my ship. I let them have it so I could tail the bastards."_

"This is a secure channel, you jackass. You can't be flying a Starfleet ship, how the hell did you get on it?"

"_Do you have to ask? It's Ash, dumbass. Hey, have you seen Sammy lately? I need his oversized brain_."

"You and me both. Our first officers went missing shortly after they skipped away in the _Galileo _to study that dead planet. Took Sulu with them too." Kirk kicked a door open. "Uhura, tell me you can beam me out."

"_Captain, that's impossible unless we destroy the _Impala_ first and I'm being told by Captain Winchester we may need her firepower before this _mission,_" _the disdainful twist on the word 'mission' told Kirk exactly what Uhura thought about such crazy, half-wit 'missions' _"is successfully concluded."_

Kirk scowled, put his head down and ran for the shuttle bay. Cupcake and Bones were waiting. "Took you long enough," the doctor groused.

"Sorry, had a chat with Winchester on the way," Kirk replied, shoving their captive at a very receptive Cupcake. "Found your comm and your medkit."

"_Captain, another free trader just entered our space. They say they've got our missing science officers with them."_

"All right, who are they?"

"_They say their name's the _Serenity._"_

* * *

><p><em>Serenity<em>

"Shit, you weren't kidding about trouble magnets," Captain Call-me-Mal Reynolds whistled.

Sam nodded from the decrepit communication station. "Do you have beaming technology?" he asked and the pretty engineer Kaylee shook her head.

"Afraid not. Our universe's technology's _really_ not compatible with transporters and I haven't been able to hook one up to the _Serenity_ without…explosive side-effects. But we can sneak down and pick up whoever's on the surface!" She beamed at Sam, who grinned back, a comradeship of optimists forming.

"Oi, I'm the captain here," Mal complained.

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "Yes captain, you are. Commander Spock, would you like River and Sulu to take the ship down to the surface?"

Spock fiddled with the science station, which spit sparks and suddenly sprang to life. "That would be prudent, Commander Zoe. Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy would benefit from our assistance."

With a nod from Mal, the _Serenity _swooped down to the space station's surface. Sam smacked the communications panel and managed to alert Captain Kirk to their presence.

"Captain Kirk says they're aboard Sulu, get out of here! They rigged the entire station to blow in five!" Sam snapped out and without waiting, Sulu sent _Serenity_ screaming for open space.

"You lot don't believe in timers?" Mal asked as he swivelled about in his chair, deciding this whole captain-but-not-pilot thing was a bit of a lark and a power trip all rolled into one.

The space station exploded into a massive fireball just as Sam replied "It's best not to be in the vicinity of any explosive laid by Captain Kirk. His timers are never reliable. Something about messing with anyone who might try to disarm it."

Mal raised his eyebrows. "I think I could like this captain."

Zoe rolled her eyes and the three first officers exchanged a long-suffering sigh.

* * *

><p><em>Dean<em>

"Sam, is that you in the rust bucket?"

"Hey!" an unknown voice griped as Sam replied in the affirmative.

"Sammy, I need you on this ship dude. Any way to swing it?"

There was a burst of static and then Sam's voice cut back in. "It's _Sam_. And I think so. As long as _Enterprise_ keeps the jackasses involved under control. Spock's going to stay here and I'm bringing Captain Reynolds with me. He wants to make sure he gets paid."

"He doesn't believe you, Sam?"

Sam sighed over the comm link. "He actually wants to make sure you're trustworthy. Something about being from another universe where the equivalent of Starfleet was a violent, cruel dictatorship."

Members of the displaced _Impala_ crew exchanged wide-eyed, curious glances. "Another universe? Again?" Dean asked in interest.

Sam groaned. "Look, after this is all cleared up, you three captains can all sit down with lots of beer, get smashed and talk about how awesome you are."

Dean liked this sentiment and sat back, watching as a really tiny, really wobbly little shuttle sputtered its way over to the nameless trader Dean was occupying (so not keeping the thing, the captain's chair was awfully uncomfortable).

Sam banged open the lift door and strode onto the bridge a few minutes later, followed by a broad-shouldered, sandy-brown haired man in a long brown leather coat.

"Sammy!" Dean crowed, swivelling around with a grin.

His brother scowled at him impressively. "_Sam_. So, what happened?"

Dean grinned. "You first."

Sam's story was short, sweet and Dean figured he could like this Mal dude, who seemed pretty relaxed given a phaser-breathing _Enterprise_ was only a few thousand kilometres away from his shield-less ship and trying not to beat the shit out of Dean's _Impala_.

So Dean started in on his side of the past several hours and tried to make it entertaining.

* * *

><p>"You <em>let<em> them take the _Impala?_"

"Yes Sam, I let them take the _Impala_."

"Ash, arrest this man as an impostor." Ash didn't budge, grinning hugely despite Sam's very serious tone of voice. This was the best Winchester "explanation" the crew had seen in months. Sam was already a lovely hue of fuchsia as he struggled to keep from throttling his brother.

"What, what?" Dean squawked.

Sam glowered. "Either you're under mind control or you're an impostor because the real Dean Winchester would never _ever _let some ragtag group of douche bags steal his ship!"

"Wait, wait, wait, just hear me out!"

Sam crossed his arms and continued to glare in an impressively irritated manner.

"Look, I knew we could take the _Impala_ back when they made the switch from ship to ship but then they'd clam up in the brig and we'd have no way of finding out where they came from. On the flip side, even if they found two or three tracking devices on the _Impala_, the chances of them finding every single tracker on a ship we know like the back of our hands is virtually nil, right?"

Sam tapped a foot. "That still doesn't explain how you knew they'd leave you the warp cores. They shouldn't have left you a way to follow them."

It was Dean's turn to be exasperated. "Geez Sammy, what do you take me for, an idiot? I borrowed the code from that little hacker program you and Ash were writing and adapted it to make them think they'd jettisoned the warp cores. Jo uploaded it into the computer while I was busy making an ass of myself. Then they took the _Impala_, beamed the important part of the _Impala_ – my crew – over to the trader ship. After that it was a piece of cake to track the _Impala_. Get it?"

There was a moment in which Sam processed Dean's explanation. "That actually makes sense. Okay, I'll buy that."

"Good, because now I need to eliminate the vermin from my ship without damaging it and you get to come up with the plan."

"What, why me?"

"Because I'm the big brother and I say so. And you've been slacking off with space cowboys."

Sam gaped incredulously, suddenly comprehending why Dean was so demanding. "Oh _now_ the truth comes out. You're pissed because I was hanging out with 'space cowboys' while you decided to let the enemy on the _Impala_! I'm sorry," he bowed with a frilly flourish, "that I was off trying to save the galaxy, got taken captive, had to talk my way out of it, came back to find out you'd give up the _Impala_ AND you're currently out of ideas. I shall endeavour to do what you cannot because I'm the smart one."

Dean grinned. Pissing off Sam was always fun. "Hey, you've gotta have a purpose in life, right?" Sam ignored him until he chucked a PADD at his younger brother.

"Are they always like this?" Mal asked Ash over the bickering siblings as a highly indignant Sam started typing at his limited science station.

"Dude. Go with the flow." Ash gestured vaguely as Castiel stared straight ahead, ignoring the mayhem. "Otherwise your brain breaks."

"These are the people in charge of saving the universe. Have saved it several times in the past." Mal seemed a little edgy at the thought. "You're sure they're not idiots?"

"You haven't seen anything yet. Wait 'til you meet Captain Kirk. He's awesome. And bat-shit insane."

Mal mulled this over for a bit and took Ash's pithy advice. "You know, I think I like this universe."

Ash grinned wildly. "Live on the edge man! It rocks!"


	21. Plan B

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p><em>Dean, Sam and Mal<em>

"Sammy?"

"I'm _thinking._"

"Think faster, Scotty's going to put great fat holes in my ship," Dean growled, trying to stare a plan into his brother's skull.

"Well, we could pull the switcheroo Ash and co. were going to try back when they surrendered the _Impala_ only this time we can play _Enterprise_'s shield failure off as a 'lucky shot.' Starc should buy it, he's clever but not thinking ahead. He's not the real leader – he's the man who carries out orders and is confident that the plan will not fail no matter what. I'm pretty we can convince Kirk and his crew to surrender, subsequently and 'accidentally' beaming the rebels into the _Enterprise_ brig." Sam stared at Dean. "In short, your standard plan B with a little _Enterprise_ thrown in to liven it up. Good enough?"

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around and tolerated your girly hair. Put me in contact with Kirk on the _Serenity._"

A grumbling Sam punched a few buttons on his new console and slapped the transmit button. "You could have totally thought of that idea all by yourself. And don't insult the hair, scrubhead."

Dean shrugged and ignored his whinging brother. "Kirk! Listen up, I've got a plan!"

"_You've_ got a plan?" Sam squawked. "It was my plan, jerk!"

"I'm the captain, it's my plan. Live with it, bitch."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Ye want me tae wha?" Scotty yelped as Chekov stared at the captain wide-eyed, the secondary bridge crew decidedly nervous and wishing the captain was actually on the ship to instil courage and craziness. Or at least more than the command-hating engineer or the teenaged whiz kid who kept forgetting to explain his odd actions (even if they usually had something to do with contributing to the end goal).

"You can do it Scotty, I've got the utmost confidence in you and Chekov. Don't forget to beam us all to our correct ships while you're at it. Kirk out." Kirk nodded cheerfully to someone off screen and the connection cut.

Scotty and Chekov stared at the screen in abject dismay. "Bloody captains and their buggering impossible plans," Scotty swore under his breath as Chekov irritably waved Spock's second in command out of the science officer's chair.

"I vill need the flexibility of dat station," he explained, "and I believe you are also trained in nawigation? Excellent. Take my position. Prepare to switch back on my mark."

Scotty glared at the screen, thinking furiously. "Uhura, you can handle the surrender, aye lass?" Uhura nodded, hiding nervousness behind a stone-smooth neutral mask. "Excellent. Re-writing the automatic transporter patterns of a Constitution-class ship in five minutes, utmost confidence my ass. Keenser! Ah need you, ye blithering little alien! Uhura, you have the conn." The grumbling engineer disappeared into the lift as Chekov hammered away at the science station, swearing softly but virulently in Russian.

"Amen to that," Uhura muttered in response to one of Chekov's more interesting curses, settling into the captain's chair with grace and composure, hoping she could pull this act off as well as her captain. "Mr. Chekov, we're going to need you for that 'miracle hit.' In position, everyone?"

Chekov cracked his knuckles and waited at his original position. A favourable hit spattered against the _Enterprise_'s solid shields and Chekov obligingly wavered them, dipping the protection percentage low enough that the shot slipped through and hit the cargo hold, causing the ship to shudder alarmingly. Playing with the shields and running several complicated routines, Chekov managed to futz the readings enough that it seemed like _Enterprise_ was suddenly shield-less, floating defenceless in space.

"Ve are ready, Commander, but de illusion vill not hold for long," he reported.

"Hail the _Impala_," Uhura ordered before adopting a slightly panicked look.

The rebel leader seemed surprised to find a woman in the command chair. "Where's Captain Kirk?" he demanded in a demeaning tone of voice. Any woman worth her salt could see he disdained the fairer sex and Uhura decided to use his arrogance to her advantage.

Widening her eyes and letting her chin tremble just that much, she bleated out "Captain Kirk's missing." Internally, the strong woman cringed at the weak sound of her voice but hey, if it worked and the man actually didn't notice whatever it was Scotty was doing to the transporter, she wasn't going to complain. Much.

Starc settled into the _Impala_'s captain chair as if he owned it and Uhura had the sudden, strong urge to introduce her wicked heeled boot to his smug, ugly face. Preferably the eye. "Captain James Kirk is missing," Starc drawled. "And they left a cute little thing like you in charge?"

Oh hell yes. Boot to the face. And then the manhood. Assuming he had one and wasn't overcompensating massively. Which was probably the case. "Your last hit took out our shields. Spare the crew and I'll surrender the _Enterprise_," Uhura wavered pitifully and swore that her captain _so_ owed her a round of drinks on their next shore leave for this rigmarole.

Starc leered at her and Uhura felt her skin crawl. "Promise to surrender to me personally?"

"I swear as long as you let us live," she wobbled even as she made plans involving hot tongs, a torture rack and lots of little pink ponies. Helping Spock wrangle the _Impala_'s alpha-shift had clearly been a good influence on her, improved her imagination and all that. Maybe she'd get alpha shift to glance over her work when she was done, see if they had any suggestions.

"We will be beaming over to _Enterprise_ in five minutes," Starc gloated arrogantly. "_Impala _out."

The screen snapped off and Uhura's face twisted into a mask of calm, vengeful anger. "You are _not_ the _Impala_, you bastard and I'm about to educate you on how far you have to go before you can even approach _Impala_'s level," she hissed to an unhearing Starc. "Chekov, stand by on the transporter. I'm heading down to the brig to make sure this goes…smoothly." The infuriated communications officer stormed off the bridge, leaving a stunned bridge behind.

"Should she be allowed near the brig?" Crawford ventured fearfully.

"Do you vant to get in her vay?" Chekov asked with more than a little awe. "I do not tink it vise to make her angry."

* * *

><p><em>Dean, Sam and Mal<em>

"Standing by for transport. You sure you don't want to stick around?" Dean asked and Mal grinned.

"Hey, it's been fun but the first thing we learned in this galaxy was that _Serenity_'s a fair sight faster than most ships but those shields of yours make Starfleet a nasty thing to tangle with. You're going to get into a throw down and we'll be of no use to you. Although I do appreciate the fair and honest treatment." He shook the case full of credits. "If you or Kirk ever need our unique talents, I'm pretty sure Sam knows how to find us."

"Come on man, poke around behind the nearest moon or something and come have a beer with us after," Dean cajoled.

Mal shrugged. "Sorry. We're moving on, it's what we do. But I'm sure we'll meet up again and," there was a quick grin, "it sure as hell won't be boring."

"Damn. Hey, if you get into trouble, feel free to drop Kirk's name," Dean urged as he busily punched buttons into the ship's transporter console.

Mal laughed as Dean slapped a hand down on the final sequence. "I'll be sure to drag Kirk down with me." He flipped Dean a quick salute as Dean hit the initiate button.

The _Impala_ crew was left staring at an empty transporter platform. "Good dude," Dean said wistfully. "Too bad he'd never work for Starfleet."

* * *

><p><em>Serenity<em>

Mal blinked a few seconds later and glanced around his ship's cargo hold. "Hey, I'm back!" he called.

"Sir," Zoe replied, clattering down the stairs, followed closely by Kaylee. "They paid us?"

"And well," Mal informed her happily, spinning around to take in the area. "Have any trouble with our _Enterprise_ guests?"

Zoe shot him an exasperated glance. "Well, I've determined that you and Captain Kirk will get along _swimmingly_. But other than that, no, they've been ideal passengers." Mal handed her the case of credits and she popped it open, whistling in surprise.

"I know," Mal shrugged, "they paid us in full, up front, in solid credit without me even bartering. I think they like us."

"Of course we like you," an unfamiliar voice said and Mal glanced up at the blond man standing in the cockpit doorway. "You hauled our first officers and my pilot out of trouble solely on their word that we'd pay you. And you've been a damn good sport about it." The newcomer with direct blue eyes rattled down the stairs and stuck out a friendly hand. "Captain Jim Kirk, _Enterprise_."

"Captain Mal Reynolds, _Serenity_. You the crazy one they've been telling me about?"

Kirk looked vaguely affronted. "I'm not crazy. My definition of normal's just a bit broader than most." There was a subtle snort from the cockpit door. "No one asked you, Mr. Sulu," Kirk shot back briskly. Mal decided that for once, everybody was right – he liked this man.

"Mal, you _sure_ we can't keep Jimbo here?" Kaylee asked, poking at the gold-shirted man. "He's loads of fun and helped me stabilize our engines again. Turns out if you use forks, a salt shaker and River's shower head, you don't need that essential part." Kirk and Kaylee grinned at each other companionably.

"Although I'm not real sure how long it'll hold," Kirk warned. "That salt shaker looked a little dodgy – you said it had been a cup in its former incarnation? And it's been fun Kay, but I've got an entire ship to run and if I'm not there, well," he shrugged importantly and Spock cut in.

"Life is pleasant without Captain Kirk but decidedly uneventful and problems only _Enterprise_ is capable of solving are given to other ships, complicating the original situation further when they inevitably request our help. Thus, we cannot allow you to 'keep' Captain Kirk, even though it would allow Commander Winchester and I to complete our experiment on subspace frequencies and sonic resonance."

Everyone paused. "Was that a compliment, Spock?" Kirk asked, frowning in an attempt to make sense of the statement.

"It was both a compliment and an insult, right Spock? Oh and would you send me the results of that experiment?" River asked, her eyes bright with curiosity. "I'd love to apply it to a similar theory I developed in our universe."

"Certainly. I would be interested in viewing your research as well."

River turned pleading eyes on Mal, who resisted valiantly for about five seconds before giving in with a mighty sigh. "Fine. You can be penpals with Spock. But _only_ if you're positive we can't be tracked by the correspondence."

"I'll make sure, I promise!" River smiled beautifully, pecked Mal on the cheek and bounced happily over to her brother, who had so far held his peace, watching the newcomers warily.

A communicator beeped at Kirk's belt and the captain plucked at it, eyeing the screen. "Ah, our ride's here. It's been fun, gents, Zoe, River, Kaylee. Hopefully we'll meet up in a bar sometime when the world's not in imminent danger."

He, Sulu and Spock whirled out of existence in a shower of light, leaving the _Serenity_ to digest what had just happened over the past few hours.

"Well, that was fun. We just keep getting closer and closer to legal and I don't know how I feel about it," Mal summed it up. "Still, I think this universe is a definite improvement over the last."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Mr. Chekov!" Kirk greeted cheerily, stepping off the transporter pad. "Report."

"Uh, keptin, perhaps Mr. Spock could go ensure dat de leader Starc is still alive?"

Chekov looked decidedly uneasy, an occurrence that was growing rarer and rarer these days as the sensible kid gained experience. Kirk quirked an eyebrow. "Explain."

Chekov chose to wordlessly play back the encounter between Uhura and Starc on the small transporter room screen. "Oh," was all Kirk said. "Carry on, Mr. Spock. I'd hate to have to hide the evidence of a murder. Chekov, Sulu with me to the bridge. I assume we were successful in the transporter mission."

"It appears so, ser."

Kirk sank happily into his captain's chair and listened to the reports roll in. Sulu cheerfully booted Crawford out of the pilot's seat as a disgruntled Uhura joined them on the bridge a few minutes later, plopping into her station with graceful disappointment.

"_Impala_ hailing, sir," she reported a minute later, long fingernails tapping on her console irritably.

As soon as the screen popped on, Dean leaned in close. "Please tell me you have Bela Talbot in your hold," he snapped out tersely. Kirk paused and glanced around the bridge.

"Mr. Spock, is Talbot in the brig?" he asked over the comm.

"_Negative, Captain."_

Kirk turned to a confused whiz navigator. "Chekov, didn't I say to beam _everyone _on that ship into the brig?"

"But I _did_, ser. There vas no vone in de brig vhen I actiwated de transporter."

Kirk and Dean exchanged glances.

"Then where's Talbot?"

There was an awkward pause in which everyone stared anywhere but at their incensed captains.

"Great. Just great."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"I want the entire damn ship combed! She's here somewhere, find her! Sam, turn your alpha shift geeks loose if you have to, Talbot is on this ship and we need to know where!" Dean's harsh voice electrified his crew into motion. Soon the _Impala_ was crawling with dedicated crew members as Dean and Bobby brainstormed in the ready room.

"All right, we blew the base sky high. That should stop most of the plan in its tracks, right?" Dean growled.

"_Not if they've already put it into action. If that's the case, we may have just wasted three hours instead of helping,"_ Kirk's tinny voice echoed from speaker on the table.

"Oh bravo boys, you're not nearly as slow as I thought you were."

Dean whirled, pulling a phaser on a long, languid shadow in the corner. "Oh come on Dean, aren't we past that point?" Talbot asked, not budging from her comfortable slouch in his favourite chair.

"I don't know, are we? Are you planning to take another Starfleet ship and sell it to a bunch of crazy fundamentalists?"

"Dean, Dean, Dean, I did say I was on your side."

"Yeah, after you sold us out."

"I told you, you didn't pay me. That's the only way to secure my loyalty."

"Or there's alternative methods of persuasion," Sam growled from behind her, causing Talbot to jump almost a foot in the air. He clamped a firm hand on her shoulder, big knuckles wrapping around the tiny delicate phaser she tried to stick up his nose. "None of that, if you please."

"When did you get in here? How did you know where to find me?" she demanded sharply, voice showing the first real sign of strain.

Dean smirked, relaxed and in control. "You seem to be interested in me. Sam follows me, you show up, Sam sneaks behind you and presto. Sam's good like that. Now, you help us or I swear I'll have Ellen drug you to the gills right now and then dump you off at the closest IO station. Pretty sure Gabe's friends can hold you for a very long time even if the average Starfleet prison can't."

"Even if I have important information that I refuse to divulge until you hand me my freedom on a silver platter with my full fee beside it?" Talbot tried to stretch sensually but Sam's hand was heavy and immovable. "Ouch, let me go!"

Dean's smirk grew wider as Sam pointedly ignored Talbot's attempt at an attractive pout. "There's always Supervisory Intelligence Officer Gabriel, he's been bored for a while now. And failing that, we've got your friendly neighbourhood Vulcan over on the other ship. I'm sure Spock would assist in an interrogation."

"_Not a problem,"_ Kirk volunteered readily. _"He's more than a little irritated that Starc was hitting on his girlfriend. I'm sure I can convince him to come up with a mind-meld if it promises to make Starc writhe in agony. Or squirm at the very least." _

For the first time, Talbot quailed just a bit and the three sharp-eyed _Impala_ officers realized there was something deep in her past, something she'd hidden very far far down, an event or action she didn't want anyone else knowing, an occurcence that a highly intelligent Vulcan wouldn't miss.

Dean leaned over the table, looming threateningly in her direction. "What do you know, Bela Talbot?"


	22. Spiralling

__I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Ash," Dean said thoughtfully, "get me the works on Bela Talbot."

The bridge crew blinked at their captain. The works? The last time Dean had asked for the works, Ash had found out that a very macho arms dealer had a rather embarrassing love for painting his own fourteen toenails very girly colours and Dean had used it to drive the alien absolutely mad.

"Legal or otherwise, dude?" Ash drawled, spinning in his chair lazily.

"All of it. I need dirt. She knows something she's not telling and she's not likely to tell until she thinks she has no other option, by which time it'll probably be too late. And while I'd love to just beam Spock over here, there are far too many nasty things in the universe capable of zapping a touch-telepath. I don't want to find out the hard way that Talbot's playing us and ends up putting _Enterprise_'s first officer out of commission. We'll keep him as a last resort. So, all the dirt you can dig up."

"All right-y then. The works, coming up." Ash cracked his knuckles and vanished into cyber-space.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Uhura, I need an update on everything in the Federation that may or may not be connected to this bug. If it gets loose in the transportation channels, we'll lose entire solar systems in a day. Spock, find a way to stop this thing. Pull Sam Winchester if you have to, but I want that bug neutralized before it starts hitting M-class planets on a wide scale. Move people!"

The _Enterprise_ crew scrambled as their captain's voice cracked out like a whip, leaving Kirk to stare sightlessly at the blank view screen, theories, plans and scenarios whirling around in his brain at a million parsecs a second. Most of those scenarios didn't play out well for the Federation.

Which was why they had _Enterprise_.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, the prisoners were still prisoners, Sam, Spock, Sulu and the doctors had come up with a chemical that would kill the bugs without harming most other life (Sulu cautioned it had to be applied correctly. An overdose would result in a very long list of nasty side effects) and the <em>Impala<em> was gearing up for a sprint back to the Federation.

Which brought them back to Ash and Chekov's little hacking project, namely one Bela Talbot.

"All right Ash, lay it on us," Dean asked, gesturing through the view screen to include the _Enterprise _crew.

Ash was sober and Chekov's face white and pinched. "I get why she didn't want Spock poking around in her head," Ash said lowly. "It's a stupid, stupid story. Bela Talbot was born under another name that I'm not going to mention in front of the cameras, with all due respect Captain." Dean shrugged. He could understand that. "Bela's family life wasn't great," Ash continued. "Judging from the evidence, her wealthy father sexually abused her from a young age, since before she could fight back. When she did get big enough to understand, she started to resist. One night, she fought back hard enough that he dropped her. She kicked his knee and he fell down the stairs, breaking his neck. Judging from early recordings from the Children's Aid Society, Bela thought she was free, that the system would now protect her if she told the truth."

Ash paused and Chekov's knuckles whitened on his console. "Bela's muzzer paid a wery large amount of money to have de inwestigation buried," he finished shortly, voice trembling with emotion. "Bela vas considered a budding threat to society and institutionalized until she escaped and dropped off the face of de planet. Literally. She vas eight."

There was earth-shattering silence on the bridges. "Is there any chance that the sanitized version is correct?" Uhura asked softly, wanting to believe the child had an overactive, disturbed imagination if only because the alternative was unthinkable.

Ash shook his head shortly. "The only reason an investigation like that is deep-sixed is because there's truth to be concealed. And the early evidence is downright damning towards her father."

There was a moment of stillness. "Right, well," Kirk broke it with a quick shake of his shoulders, "we can't use that against her. Not unless we're damn sure her silence will kill the Federation. Sam?"

The younger Winchester had that pitbull-stubborn look on his face again. "Yes," he replied. "Yes, I will absolutely make sure this wrong is righted to the fullest extent of the law as soon as we save the Federation. Again." He grinned lopsidedly.

A relieved titter ran around the connected bridges as everyone tried to yank themselves out of depressing thoughts. "Sam, you and me are going to talk to Talbot. Kirk, send Gabriel over before we leave. Cas, be ready to move out in fifteen minutes. If we can't crack Talbot in that period of time, we ain't gonna do it at all. _Impala_ out."

* * *

><p>Dean stormed out of the bridge with his brother on his heels, feeling a simmering, choking anger burning in his throat. He didn't really like Talbot (even if she did have great legs and a very good understanding of how to let a man enjoy some major eye candy). But no one deserved the horrific events hidden in her past and suddenly her capricious, superficial nature made a hell of a lot more sense. If you never gave out anything of value, it didn't hurt when it was snatched away and if you never took in anything of value, it couldn't claw out your insides when it inevitably turned on you.<p>

Dean understood that, probably better than anyone other than Kirk himself. He glanced sideways, scanning his brother. Sam, the world's best first officer and kid brother. Yeah, Dean understood how Bela could guard her few shredded, threadbare emotions with smoke, mirrors and razor-cruel actions.

He paused outside the cell that was rather remarkably still holding a subdued Bela Talbot. Sinking into a squat, Dean sighed as he surveyed the huddled ball of a woman in the corner. Shit, he thought. She's absolutely terrified of us, surrounded by mostly men and although she's probably convinced herself that she no longer fears men, that little traumatized girl is still in there somewhere.

Aloud, he began. "We know, Bela."

She glanced over at him and tried to smile prettily, her eyes as terrified as a hunted deer's. "Know what?"

"About your childhood."

Her pretty face twisted into an angry, hurt grimace and she spat out "You know _nothing_ of my childhood."

"We know you didn't have one," Sam said gently from where he stood in the shadows. Kind Sam, always reaching out to help with all the tact Dean lacked.

She snarled, spitting rage and fear all in one rippling string of words. "Fools. Then you've lost your one advantage over me and I'll keep my mouth shut out of pure spite. You had no right to go digging into my past."

"Would you have preferred a mind meld?" Dean asked with brutal honesty and Bela flinched. "We know you were hurt. We know you were abandoned but right now your mind is still your own and no matter what you think of us, we like to respect people's mental privacy."

Sam slid forward the case Jo had handed him on his way out of the bridge. "We're prepared to do business, Ms. Talbot. You'll be paid for the information you give us, as you originally requested." He popped the case open and Bela's eyes flickered to the cold, hard cash. "As you know," Sam continued, "The _Impala_'s word has been solid thus far. We're making a run back to the Federation but we'll stop off at a planet of your choosing. Naturally though, we'll ask that you stay in the brig until we reach said planet. You have a nasty habit of stealing from us or betraying us and we can't have that, not on this run."

She stared at them, caught somewhere between disbelief and fear. "You're lying. You're going to double-cross me, strand me on a planet with no civilization or just deep-space me out of spite. You're lying!"

Dean stared back. "I don't really think you have room to talk about lying. And we haven't screwed you over yet. I think that should count for something. You've got nothing to fear from us as long as your information's solid and even if you think we'll backstab you in the future, your chances are pretty damned good at the moment given the amount of trouble the _Impala_'s going to face on this run. There's a good chance we won't arrive at our destination. In which case, you'll have skipped out of this little encounter with a decent amount of cash and our secret will have died with us."

She stared at the glittering row of filthy, hypnotic lucre and then up at two pairs of empathetic eyes. Not sympathetic, not pitying, just something perilously close to understanding. The silence stretched on interminably and Dean wondered if Bela was thinking about what would happen if she trusted, if she reached out.

Sam snapped the case shut with a metallic snick and slid the prize through the bars, breaking the moment.

Bela stared at it briefly before pushing it back and slumped in on herself. "I don't know anything more, nothing of value except that there's someone in Starfleet who wants you and the _Enterprise_ out of commission."

And it was the broken, shattered truth.

Dean sighed, a gusty exhalation of disappointment and stretched to his feet before striding out of the brig. "Sam, do what you like with her," he called over his shoulder.

Sam surveyed the hurting woman before him and buzzed the door open. "Come on," he said compassionately, carefully standing out of the way and projecting non-threatening vibes all over the place. "I'm going to introduce you to Ellen."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"So Talbot doesn't know anything," Kirk cursed, pacing across the front of the bridge.

Dean shook his head, sitting ready to leave in his captain's chair. "Nope and dude, we gotta head back Earth-way now. Gabriel's aboard and we've got the bug-spray. We're golden. What are you going to do next?"

Kirk shrugged. "We're going to try and determine where those fundamentalists in our brig came from and nip this thing off at the bud. That and we've still got Walker with us." Kirk's smile was decidedly unfriendly. "That should be interesting at the very least."

"Damn, why do you get to have all the fun while we go save the Federation, yadda yadda," Dean grinned. "Good luck. Don't end up dead."

"Likewise. _Enterprise_ out."

The crew of the _Enterprise_ watched the smaller ship zip away at top speed. "They'll make Federation space in approximately 9.35 hours, keptin," Chekov reported to the whole bridge, just in case anyone was wondering.

"Very good, Mr. Chekov. Spock! We're going to talk to Walker."

* * *

><p>"Gordon Walker," Kirk said with a wide smile. "Feeling better?" The former IO and traitor was busy nursing an impressively bruised throat and a swollen jaw. He glared up at the smirking Starfleet captain, who loomed over him as Spock swung the brig cell door open. "How are the ribs?"<p>

Walker surged unsteadily to his feet, growling irritably but Spock's silent presence and Kirk's cold eyes had him hanging back warily. "You can't assault me Kirk, they'll have you up on charges. You'll lose the _Enterprise_, your captaincy, your crew, everything."

Kirk leaned idly against the doorframe. "Of course, that's assuming they ever realize a crime was committed. Isn't that right?" He turned to his loyal first officer.

"Are we speaking hypothetically, Captain?"

"We are, Mr. Spock."

"Hypothetically, Captain, it would indeed be possible to erase all evidence of Gordon Walker's existence from the _Enterprise._ Personally, I believe the most efficient means of dealing with the body would be to return it to the destroyed space station via airlock. Any one who might discover it would assume he was caught in the explosion. It would be a simple task to execute." Spock's voice was flatter and colder than a window pane in the dead of winter.

"Well then." Kirk leaned forward with mild curiosity and unpleasant intent. "Why don't you answer my questions or I turn you over to oh, I don't know, the Winchesters. Perhaps Gabriel." Walker shifted nervously before mentally shaking himself, getting a grip.

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Or I can take you back to that nice planet where your witch of a boss drugged both Sam and I. Those natives, they're awfully hospitable and they really know their hallucinogens. That and they're very suspicious of anyone who might try to do them harm," Kirk rolled over Walker's declaration. "They'd _love_ to meet a xenophobic human."

And then the _Enterprise_ shuddered underneath him and Kirk whirled to the closest comm station as Spock slammed the cell door shut. "Sulu, what's going on?"

"Captain, you'd better get up here! We have a situation on the bridge!"

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

The run home had been, well, anti-climactic. Nine very, very boring hours. Sure, the _Impala_ had broken yet another Starfleet record, but that was old hat for them. No Romulans, no Starfleet spies, no…trouble. They'd made it all the way to Earth.

It was making Dean twitchy.

It was making everyone twitchy, even Castiel, which was saying a lot.

"Starfleet Command, this is the USS _Impala_ requesting permission to dock. We're carrying a bio-weapon capable of neutralizing the bugs currently attacking Federation planets," Sam said with false calm over the comm, drumming nervous fingers against his console as everyone kept a wary eye on the odd traffic configuration around them.

"Something's wrong," Dean voiced aloud.

"_Impala_, _you are granted landing privileges. Stand by."_

And the traffic continued to be strange. "There's too many ships just floating about," Ash drawled. "Almost like they're waiting for us."

"What was it Talbot said? Someone in Starfleet wanted us out of commission," Dean mused. "Still, running away solves nothing. We need Starfleet's ships to get that chemical out. Take her in, Cas."

When the _Impala_ connected with space dock, the entire ship suddenly crackled with energy and fell dead as Dean swore and Sam and Ash scrambled to mitigate the damage. "Comm's dead. Everything's dead," Sam reported finally. "Some sort of massive electrical pulse designed to fry the ship. We're definitely getting arrested."

Dean couldn't help but agree. "All right people, no one resist. We haven't done anything wrong. At least, most of you haven't. Sam, has alpha shift behaved lately?"

Sam looked indignant. "Of course they have!" Cas turned an unnerving stare on the first officer as Jo snorted in disbelief and Dean scowled. "Mostly," Sam qualified. "Nothing that would get the entire ship arrested. I think."

"You think? Sam, you're the damn lawyer!" Dean growled as Sam smiled brightly in a transparent, weak attempt to reassure.

"Oh look, we're being hailed! Comm back online, but that's it."

"_Captain Winchester, you and your entire crew are under arrest for treason against the United Federation of Planets. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to representation. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You will remain on the USS _Impala_ until further notified. You will not leave the USS_ Impala_ and you will not attempt to restore functionality to the ship or contact anyone off the ship. Do you understand?"_

Every eye was glued to the captain, who shrugged. "I understand. I'll explain the situation to my crew."

"_Good. Additionally, you will destroy the bio-weapon you have brought to Earth or risk immediate court martial."_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, destroy it? We brought it back to exterminate the bugs!"

"_You will destroy it Captain Winchester, or we will have your entire crew up on high treason instead of treason. You and you alone are currently charged with high treason. Additionally, if you continue to challenge us, we will flood your ship with nerve gas, killing everyone on board as you will have demonstrated by that point that you are a significant and immediate danger to the Federation."_

Shit. High treason meant they would all be stuck on Pluto. Dean would survive. Sam could handle it. Bobby definitely, Jo, Ellen, Cas and Ash, they'd all make it on Pluto but Sam's science division? Ellen's gaggle of nurses? They'd be dead in a week. And that's providing whoever the traitorous bigwig was didn't decide to just gank the _Impala_ even after they complied because they'd pissed him off.

"_Captain Winchester, we have marked the bio-weapon on our sensors. You have exactly three minutes to dispose of it or those charges will be laid. After that, you have one minute before the gas is released. You will also wipe all research material and instructions for compiling the chemical from your data banks. Do you understand?"_

Dean glanced at Sam, who nodded. "I get it, I get it. Hold your horses. Commander Winchester will dispose of all bio-weapon and bio-weapon related material. Can I hear the charges in detail, learn what exactly it is we did?"

"_You may not. Starfleet Command out."_

"Sam? Is that legal?"

"Nope, that's not legal. They have to tell us what the charges are, even under martial law. And nope, there's no legal way to get out of this mess. Last communiqué said they had imposed martial law and were locking down the planets. They'll hold a court martial in absentia, we'll get sentenced and then probably towed out to Pluto without ever having left the _Impala_." Sam punched a few buttons (evidently they had given him the ability to destroy the bio-weapon) and sighed. "The chemical's gone now. That gives us a few minutes."

"Right," Dean said, rubbing his hands together. "Well, since they say we're traitors, we really should live up to their expectations."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Dr. Gain, what can I do for you?" Kirk asked as he sat back in his captain's chair, hiding his uneasiness and disgust behind a genial mask. Spock and Bones were backing him up, which helped but the foreboding feeling only intensified as the doctor smirked at him from a small trader ship.

Kirk couldn't help but notice that one decent shot from the _Enterprise_ would reduce the witch to nothing more than scattered atoms. The thought would have been reassuring but Gain looked far, far too confident and Kirk had this sneaking feeling that he was about to lose all control of the events around him.

"Captain Kirk," Dr. Gain drawled, stretching the three syllables like fine morsels of meat. "I underestimated you the last time we met. My apologies. I promise, it won't happen again. Now, I need your ship. Your lovely, lovely _Enterprise_, turned over to me in one perfectly functioning piece. I promise not to scratch the paint."

Kirk's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward in his captain's chair, watching her like a hawk. "Why the hell would I turn my ship over to a sociopathic nutjob like you?"

Her thin lips stretched over protruding teeth like taut tomato skins, the messy red lipstick clashing with the pink tongue that slipped out to lick at the corners of her mouth with satisfaction and Kirk fought off a shudder of revulsion. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the scariest predators of the universe came from the very planet he sought to protect.

"You're going to do _exactly_ as I tell you or I blow up a planet for every dissenting word that you or your crew utters."

Kirk glanced sideways to Spock, who nodded. Spock estimated that she was telling the truth, which only confirmed what Kirk himself thought. So far, Gain hadn't made any empty threats.

"Sulu, power down the shields. Gain, _Enterprise _is at your disposal. What do you want?"

She smiled again in an obscenely wide, delighted expression and her bright green eyes somehow seemed blacker and colder than the deepest reaches of space.

"Well for starters..."


	23. All the World's a Stage

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"You're sure I'll be recognised?"

"Dude, do you want to be caught because one of your fangirls glomps you in the street and some police officer notices?"

Dean glared at his brother, sitting far more calmly in his chair.

Well, he seemed calm at least, because the true state of Sam Winchester's mind became apparent when he cursed viciously and slammed a fist down on the console.

"What?"

"They've cut the _Impala _out of the network entirely. I'd love to send the _Los Angeles _and the _Washington_ to go help out the _Enterprise_ but I can't even contact Starfleet Command. It'd take Ash at least forty eight hours to crack this and we don't have that kind of time."

"So? _Enterprise_ is a big girl, she can look after herself. We've got a mole to hunt down in Starfleet right here otherwise we're going to end up on the lam. Permanently."

Sam stared at him. "And how exactly do you plan to get off this dead-locked ship?"

Dean grinned, bounding out of his captain's chair. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I never thought you'd ask. Cas, you have the con. If anyone asks, we're sequestered in the ready room, awaiting our fair representation. Ash, you're coming with me and Sam." And then Dean Winchester smiled with all of his teeth in an expression that boded ill for any who crossed him. "Sam. I think it's time we introduced alpha shift to the rest of the world, don't you?"

Sam looked confused for a brief second and then matched his brother's grin. "Sure. Why not?"

* * *

><p><em>Alpha Shift<em>

"Okay, so this is how it goes," Sam began, surveying a room full of colourful characters, most sporting interesting hair dye jobs, chemical-stained fingers and singed lab coats. Alpha shift perked up their ears. "It's a very detailed plan, one that will take all of your considerable attention and skill."

Alpha shift started to droop. The last time Sam had said something like that, they had had to recalibrate the long-range sublight scanners and it had taken them a very boring week.

Sam planted both hands on his desk and leaned forward.

"Raise hell."

* * *

><p><em>Dean, Sam and Ash<em>

"You turned the mad minions loose?"

"Yep."

"Dude, we ready?"

"Let's do the impossible."

"So dramatic, Sammy. Wait for it…"

There was a bang several decks above and the thud of security feet materializing on the transporter pad before running off after alpha shift.

"Right. Down the garbage chute," Dean said with a flourish, holding the door open.

"I hate you so much," Sam grumbled, wriggling his big frame into the hole in the wall. Bobby had redesigned this particular chute just for situations such as this although it wasn't exactly what you'd call regulation. At all. In fact, it was downright illegal.

And it stank.

Sam landed with a dusty 'oof' at the bottom, landing on a pile of old Earth mattresses. Apparently Bobby thought the antique approach funny. He rolled out of the way just in time, his brother clearly aiming to hit Sam like a bulldozer. Ash slid down a few seconds later. "Just missed a patrol. Their uniforms are pink now, by the way. Alpha shift seems to be having fun."

Dean stood up, patting himself down. "All right. Disguises. Then we go spy-hunting."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk experimentally prodded at a loose tooth with his tongue. The command crew sat morosely around him, Uhura in the darkest, safest corner. Call it chauvinism if you like, but she was the one who spent the least amount of time on an away team. The rest of his people were probably locked in the hold. He hoped. Gain probably wouldn't pass up on the chance to pick up four hundred or so live test subjects.

And in the meantime whenever she felt stressed, she got one of her goons to beat the shit out of him. At least she hadn't turned to organized torture and drugging again. Yet.

Of course, the instant he thought that, the cell door swung open and several burly thugs entered. "You," the lead thug grunted, pointing at Spock.

"NO!" Kirk shouted, bolting up off the floor only to stare down the nose of a phaser.

"Sit down or we start killing," the thug growled, thumbing the phaser from stun to kill and shifting until the phaser pointed at Sulu. Kirk clenched his fists but at a quiet "Captain, please," from Spock, he reluctantly sat back down on the floor.

His best friend and first officer was led away to a psychotic witch known for her cruel treatment of entire planets and Jim Kirk let it happen.

He let it happen for hours. No matter what he thought of, no matter what crazy batshit plan he tried to concoct, none of them had a snowflake's chance in hell of succeeding. So when Spock came back oozing clear green blood and covered in bruises, dark eyes glazed with pain, Kirk smacked himself around the head several times with the figurative hammer.

And when they pointed to a grim-faced Bones, Jim Kirk rebelled to the point where they had to beat him into unconsciousness with one of the stools from the security office.

He came back to himself listening to Uhura berate Scotty for defending the captain and gaining a black eye of his own. Taking internal inventory, Kirk guessed he had several busted ribs, a fractured hand, a pounding concussion and the only part of him that didn't hurt was his hair. Maybe.

Slowly pushing himself to a sitting position against the wall, he surveyed the room. Uhura was paler than a sheet (quite a feat for her), Spock was an odd color of greenish salt and Scotty was red with rage. Chekov was already hovering at his captain's side as Sulu kept watch by the door. "Where's Bones?" Kirk slurred.

Uhura shrugged helplessly. "They haven't brought him back yet and I need him to help me with Spock." Kirk tried to get up, to go over and Chekov gently pushed him back.

"He vill be all right, keptin. Ve need you as vell."

Kirk glared at the kid with no real heat. The wide-eyed teenager was turning into a sensible, solid Starfleet officer who refused to flinch when he knew he was right. And Chekov was rarely wrong, so Kirk reluctantly slumped against the wall, trying valiantly to ignore the drumming in his head.

Ignoring the drumming didn't work so well, especially considering it beat out a tattoo of accusation. His ship was taken, his friends beaten and he still didn't know if the rest of his crew was still alive. He needed to get out of this damned call.

He needed to get out of the cell.

It became a mantra as consciousness slipped away again.

* * *

><p>Scotty growled in consternation as the captain passed out.<p>

Sulu took a deep, measuring breath. Time to kick things into gear. He had been hoping that the captain would come around long enough to think up the plan but clearly that wasn't going to happen. "Pavel," he said lowly. His friend nodded. Chekov had been working for hours on the door lock with the tiny, under-powered computing device that had been hidden in the sole of his boot.

Now, Chekov almost had the code cracked and Sulu had to calm down the excitable Montgomery Scott, which was a feat and a half in itself. By the time Scotty was listening to Sulu, Chekov had the cell door open and was waiting for the next phase of the plan.

"Uhura, can I have Spock's right boot please?" Sulu asked.

A confused communications officer handed Sulu the boot. Popping two pellets out of the lining, Sulu quickly clicked them open. Both were only half full and pouring one's contents into the other resulted in an odourless gas. Pitching it down the corridor, Sulu soon heard the soft thump of guards falling prey to the knock-out drug.

"Scotty, go lock those guys in a cell and break the lock panel so no one can get them out," Sulu ordered. "Chekov, change that lock so it can be opened from the inside but not the outside." Chekov nodded, locking their captain and first officer safely into the cell as Scotty gleefully and not-carefully-at-all dragged, bumped, shoved and kicked the guards into their new residence.

Once the quartet of free officers stood staring at each other uneasily in the security office, Sulu put Phase II into action. "Scotty, can you and Chekov stop this ship dead in its tracks?" Scott stared at him mournfully.

"Oh aye laddie. But she's going to hate us something fearful."

Sulu acknowledged this but didn't change the request. "Better she be in the right hands and hating you than scattered across space as slag junk. Hop to it. Uhura, you and I are going to rescue Dr. McCoy."

Uhura took a deep breath, picked up a phaser and nodded. "Ready. Let's roll."

* * *

><p>"Bloody Gain and her bloody ham-handed jackass guards," Scotty mumbled under his breath, yanking out wires by the fistful and disassembling various essential pieces of machinery as Chekov sent a rampant computer virus into the control systems of the <em>Enterprise. <em>"An' one an' two _three_," he grunted, pulling out the final key part.

_Enterprise_ shuddered, groaned, dropped out of warp and screeched to a blinding halt, sending Chekov pinballing into the console across the room and Scotty smacked his head off the floor hard. Rubbing his sore noggin, the engineer extracted himself from under the warp cores as Chekov staggered to his feet. "Ve must hide," he said quietly but urgently. "And not in de wentilation shafts. Dat vill be the first place they look."

Scotty agreed so they hid themselves in with the still, behind a cleverly hidden secret panel, designed to be sensor-proof and thus avoiding the notoriously stringent Starfleet inspectors. "Does de keptin know about this?" Chekov asked curiously, squashed between the still itself and a pile of full bottles.

Scotty glanced about shiftily. "We have an…arrangement. He's got a love for fine alcohol. An' it's got medicinal properties." He dropped one of the computer chips he had taken from the console into an open-necked bottle and shook it about. "Also verra good at disabling delicate machinery."

Chekov grinned. "I must try some after this."

"Good lad!"

* * *

><p>Sulu was really kind of wishing he'd paid attention all those times when Chekov had volunteered to teach him how to hack doors and the like. He was watching Uhura do it the Starfleet way, since their lives up until joining the E<em>nterprise<em> had been rather more mundane than the rest of the crew.

Which was supposedly a good thing but only ended up being a pain in the ass when they needed to save Dr. McCoy, somehow capture Dr. Gain and preferably save the Federation in the process somewhere along the way.

Decisions, decisions.

Uhura let out a soft cry of delight and the door to the security department's surveillance room slid open. A quick scan of most major camera views showed that they were indeed beating McCoy in the ready room while Gain swanned about the bridge. Starc and Walker flanked her, almost grovelling at her feet.

"Bitch," Uhura hissed just as the ship jolted to a very violent, very unnatural and rather _Enterprise_-punishing halt. Uhura barely kept herself from pitching face-first into the console as Sulu cursed, arms waving wildly in an attempt to brace himself. "Take that," Uhura continued as if she had single-handedly stopped the ship herself.

Thankfully, the idiots stopped beating Dr. McCoy and ran out to consult with the crazy lady. Uhura pulled up the volume on low just in time to hear "search engineering! I want the saboteur found!"

Uhura sent Sulu a worried glance but he shook his head. "Scotty and Chekov aren't stupid. They won't get caught. We have to get to Dr. McCoy." Thankfully, the pilot knew one very useful computer trick that he had scammed off Chekov in an attempt to impress a tech-savvy girlfriend.

When Gain's men piled into the lift and the door shut, Sulu typed a long string of commands into the computer and watched in satisfaction as the elevator promptly rode to the very bottom level of the ship and opened. It would stay there on the garbage disposal floor until someone figured out how to unlock the elevator controls. That someone would have to be Chekov. Therefore, Gain's men weren't going anywhere.

Hypothetically.

Assuming Gain wasn't as clever as Chekov.

Sulu could always hope.

* * *

><p>"Well laddie, do we sit here now that they've missed us or do we go adventuring?" Scotty had cooled off significantly after a short time in the still room although the temptation to sample his latest micro-brew was growing overwhelming.<p>

Chekov picked up a few extra tools that Scotty had been using to adjust the still and popped on the portable plasma-torch. "Obwiously ve go help Sulu and Uhura!"

"Agreed! Where to first?"

Chekov thought for a moment.

"Perhaps ve should flood de bridge with a sleeping agent?"

Scotty thumped the thin young man on the shoulder. "That's what I like to see, initative! All right, first we'll need to stop off at Ensign S'mth's station, the laddie's measuring the effects of various gasses on the warp cores. He's got sommat in there for us to use."

"And I vill pick up a fan and piping. Meet you at the wentilation shaft in five?"

"Make it three."

* * *

><p>Sulu had left Uhura in the surveillance room so she could warn him away from the thugs. Luckily, security liked Sulu and had given him both the combination and thumb print access for the sword cabinet and now he was satisfactorily armed.<p>

"_Take the next left!"_ Uhura said calmly but definitively.

"It's a dead end," Sulu pointed out.

He might have heard a faint snort. _"Just trust me."_ Swallowing a retort, he jogged down the next left.

"Dead end," he said, trying to keep the "I told you so" out of his tone.

"_Ventilation shaft, you unimaginative person,"_ Uhura drawled, disdain rippling through the comm.

Oh. Right.

Sulu boosted himself up and into the shaft, pulling the grate into place just in time to hear a few goons check the corridor. Following Uhura's mystifying instructions, Sulu managed to reach one of the great open air shafts leading straight up the core of the ship. _"And now you climb. Several levels,"_ Uhura told him, trying to sound sympathetic through a small giggle.

Sulu squinted into the distance. It was a long way up, damn it. "Uhura," he said warningly.

"_Sulu, I promise it's the only way to go."_

"This is going to be so much fun."

* * *

><p><em>Dean, Sam and Ash<em>

"Sam, I am so going to kill you for this. Very, very dead."

"Hey, at least no one will recognize you as Dean Winchester."

"I look ridiculous!"

"Well then, you shouldn't be upset. It's just business as usual." Sam grinned and dodged his brother's punch.

Ash strolled ahead of the bickering pair, not exactly in his element but definitely more comfortable dressed as a dirty sewer repair man than his captain, whose jumpsuit was too small, exposing strips of space-whitened skin around his ankles and wrists. Dean had tried to tuck the legs into the work boots but hadn't really been successful and right now he looked like every reject delinquent dragged to a job he hated, complete with sullen face and clenched fists.

Sam's suit fit him. Sam's suit covered his ridiculously long arms and legs. Sam didn't look like a retard. Sam was going to find that coffee chip missing when they got back to the _Impala _and then when anyone asked, the chip had been lost by Sam, not Dean.

When they reached the appropriate sewer, Ash pried the cover back and the three spy-hunters dropped down into the system. For all of Starfleet's advances, sewers were still dark, drippy, smelly and nasty. Sam led them unerringly though, finally stopping at a rather blank, exit-less stretch of tunnel. "All right Dean, do your thing," he said, scratching an 'x' on the roof.

Dean popped the big tool case open and pulled out a plasma-torch. "You sure no one will hear this?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"Anything with vibration will set off the sensors. I'm pretty sure no one has ever thought of using a torch on concrete. Just be careful. If you melt the servers, we're screwed as well as traitors."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sam." Dean popped the portable torch into its active configuration, pulled down a dark pair of goggles and hit the switch. A blue-green flame hissed into existence, its soft roar warning all and sundry that this particular tool could cut through just about anything less dense than a star ship's hull in less than ten seconds flat.

Including concrete.

Dean paused just before he closed the four foot wide circle, leaving Sam to chip at the last bit with a chisel. Dean and Ash caught the chunk of concrete, lowering it soundlessly to the ground. And that left them staring up into the basement of one of Starfleet's most secure facilities.

"Costume change," Ash drawled as Sam tossed a grappling hook up into the room. Dean stripped out of the maintenance suit as quickly as he could, happily pulling on a Starfleet janitor's outfit. They swarmed up the rope and into the computer room, careful to stay out of camera range.

Ash pulled out a PADD and hooked into the mainframe. "Now then," he said coldly. "There's never any real hiding in cyber-space. You can always be found."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Cas twiddled his fingers idly. Dead ship, dead computer, no captain and Starfleet had promised to flood the _Impala_ with gas. A thought occurred to Cas – currently, alpha shift had all the security officers occupied.

Perhaps it was time for Cas and Bobby to see what they could do about that gas application. "Bobby?" he asked over the comm.

"Yeah kid?"

"I think it's about time to get creative." Castiel twiddled with a few ideas, mimicking Ash's prediction skills for a minute. "I think it's safe to assume someone's trying to take down Starfleet and we're going to need the _Impala_."

"What did you have in mind?"

Twenty minutes later, the electronic triggers that would allow Starfleet to send a signal releasing gas or taking control of the _Impala_ were effectively deadlocked. Jo happily spun a spanner as she and Bobby surveyed the last trigger. "All secure," she reported.

Cas, still up on the bridge, drew just a phantom's shadow of power from the dilithium chambers, just enough to bring up the sensor array and give the _Impala_ back her eyes. "Now all we can do is wait for the captain."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Sulu had been climbing forever, it seemed. When he finally reached his destination and wriggled into the ventilation systems as Uhura instructed, he paused to catch his breath.

Then he caught the first whiff of something off in the air and cursed his clever best friend six ways to Sunday. Chekov was looking to incapacitate the whole ship and he was going to accidentally knock out Sulu in the process. Scrambling through the shafts, Uhura encouraging him the whole way, Sulu almost made it to the ready room when his head started to swim and his body stopped listening to him.

His last conscious thought was of the virulent verbal mayhem Uhura would wreak on Chekov and Scotty for sending him off to la-la land.

* * *

><p>Uhura wasn't sure whether she should kiss the two idiots down in engineering or tear a strip off them. <em>Enterprise <em>was now dead in space, full of sleeping foes and enemies. And Sulu was passed out in the ventilation system. Uhura had had the presence of mind to slam the security office shut and enact environmental protocols but now she was stuck wearing a mask and watching Chekov and Scotty skip through the ship up towards the bridge.

Then Uhura realized she hadn't seen Walker for a while. He'd actually disappeared off the cameras after leaving the bridge and she remembered belatedly that he'd been IO, a spy. Double-checking her door and the captain's cell/safe haven, she let herself feel a thin smidge of relief before scouring the video files for anything resembling Gordon Walker.

Zilch.

Not good.

She filled Chekov and Scotty in on the problem as they stepped over sleeping guards. "Make sure you're armed and don't go off by yourselves," she said, trying to keep her voice calm like any good communication officer should.

"Aye aye, mother hen," Scotty teased and she bristled, punching irritably at a few extra buttons.

"Where are you?" she muttered, running every scan she could possibly access from the security station. She could really use Gabriel's advice at the moment. This would be right up his alley.

* * *

><p><em>Gabriel<em>

"You're certain the coordinates are correct?" Gabriel asked with cold seriousness running through every syllable spoken.

"Positive."

Gabriel hummed in thought, trying to fathom the most prudent course of action. He had a pretty good idea where the Winchesters went and they were going to get themselves caught at the very last second and then they'd be screwed.

"Look," the shadowy person shifted, "I know you've got no reason to trust me but I want to do this. I really do. And you're running out of time."

He pushed the chair back, leaving his latte on the café table. Bright, sunny San Francisco afternoon, everyone going about their business with absolutely no idea that their lives could be ending in very short order if this didn't go off right.

It hadn't been difficult to slip off the _Impala_ and even easier to avoid Starfleet's security goons because really, if an IO couldn't avoid the goons then he didn't deserve to be IO.

"Fine," he said slowly. "But if you screw this up, you'd better find a small dark hole in the back corner of the universe and hide there for all eternity because if you betray us I will find you and I will _end_ you. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."


	24. The Curtain Rises

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

* * *

><p><em>Dean, Sam and Ash<em>

The trouble with being a star ship captain pretending to be a spy, Dean decided, was that when you were caught, the Intelligence Office tended to treat you like a double traitor, if that made sense. IO disliked regular Starfleet in general and flashy heroic captains in particular. Especially flashy heroic captains 'making light' of IO's deadly, deadly serious lifestyle (okay, so Dean made a point of pissing them all off. Sue him – they were overzealous pompous idiots who needed a dose of reality).

And yes, the _Impala _team had gotten caught. According to the rather smug IO in charge of their 'case,' they'd just installed displacement sensors in the floor in the event of a situation such as this. Yes, Sammy was beating himself up over this.

No, they weren't going to get out of a court martial, especially now that they knew who the traitor really was. And the traitor would make sure to bury them. Literally and figuratively.

Dean sighed melodramatically just to get an irritated bitchface out of Sam, who had been stripped of all his gadgets and was still glaring at the overly curious rookie who had broken Sam's favourite doohickey.

And that was when the overly curious rookie, standing rigidly at attention and trying not to fidget under Sam's intense laser eyes suddenly sighed and fell over.

Gabriel sauntered into sight. "Come on, no time to lose," he began cheerfully and despite his words, he didn't seem to be in any hurry. Punching a code into the pad, he let the three wannabes out of their cell. "Did a good job for amateurs," Gabriel commented, "but you forgot to account for upgrades. Granted, you didn't have much time, few tools and absolutely no plan so I guess I can't fault you – ouch, what was that for?"

He rubbed his head gingerly as Dean rolled past. "You weren't saying anything worth listening to. Shut up."

Okay, so not quite forgiven for the Cas thing just yet. But on the bright side, he seemed to be making progress.

"What's our next move?" Sam asked.

Dean scowled and stared at the wall. "I don't know. I think we need Pike."

Gabriel threw up his hands. "Great. Christopher Pike. The straight-shooting type. Hero, definitely and that's why you lot like him but he's still not anything approaching subtle."

That got him three very nasty looks and Gabriel decided to shut up until they had totally painted themselves into a corner.

Then he could save the day without them tearing his ears off.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Uhura couldn't shake the feeling that they were being hunted on their own ship. Walker and Starc were missing, Gain was seated up on the bridge wearing a gas mask and Sulu was still passed out in the ventilation shafts. Not to mention that the captain and first officer were still out of commission and the CMO was (thankfully) gassed as well.

Scotty and Chekov decided to follow Sulu's route and the skinny Russian weaseled his way through the shafts, dragging Sulu back out to the main vent for Scotty to revive before heading back in to get McCoy.

Dropping into the ready room, Chekov eyed the doctor's prone form. Dr. McCoy may not have been built like Captain Kirk or Spock but he was still bigger than Chekov and decently muscled. He was going to be dead weight.

Good thing Chekov was a mathematics genius. Locking the door so Gain couldn't interrupt them, Chekov surveyed the room. It was the work of a minute to creatively apply chairs and the table to build an optimum angle. Then a few of the captain's many spare shirts (kept in the desk just in case – the captain lost his shirt a lot) were tied into a harness, a sleeve rope trailing up into the shaft.

And then it was a rather simple albeit physically tiring task to pull the doctor up into the shaft and drag him down about twenty feet. Chekov returned to the room, straightened things out, put the chairs and table back properly and clambered up into the shaft, closing the grating behind him.

Then he sat down for a breather and patted himself on the back.

* * *

><p>Dr. McCoy was laid out on a blanket in the security office as Uhura checked him over, a worried Chekov hovering in the doorway. Sulu had woken up and given both Scotty and Chekov an earful before heading off with Scotty to liberate Cupcake and a few other essential people from the hold.<p>

"It looks like they just beat him up," Uhura finally concluded. She patted the doctor's cheek. "Dr. McCoy. Dr. McCoy. Bones."

His eyes fluttered a minute later and he squinted up at her. "Uhura darlin'," he drawled fuzzily, "why do you have two heads?"

Uhura sat back on her heels in relief. Concussed, certainly and more than a little banged up but still McCoy. "Dr. McCoy, I need you to take a look at Captain Kirk and Commander Spock."

Woozily, the doctor hauled himself to a sitting position as Chekov provided a first aid kit he'd picked up from the infirmary on their way by. "What have those idiots done now?"

Uhura had taken advanced first aid, so Chekov covered the door while she helped Dr. McCoy patch himself up and then get into the cell area. Punching in the pass code Chekov had assure Sulu no one could break except possibly Chekov himself and maybe Ash, Uhura swung the door open to find Captain Kirk watching them warily, like a feral tiger.

Then he brightened, recognition dawning. "Uhura?"

She grinned. "We staged an escape and I'd say we're about halfway there. We got Dr. McCoy back too." Kirk sagged in relief, raising a hand to his ribs and wincing.

"Good job. Excellent job."

McCoy limped in, fully immersed in doctor mode. To Uhura's relief, McCoy still had the presence of mind to treat both the captain and first officer properly, if slower than usual. And they ignored his shaking hands after Kirk opened his mouth and McCoy sent him a scorching glare.

Uhura was just getting hopeful when the ship shuddered under a direct hit, sparks flying, smoke filling the air and then there was the horrible, overwhelming sound of atmosphere racing out into hard vacuum.

"Shit, no shields," Kirk cursed and shot to his feet somewhat unsteadily. "Uhura, help McCoy. Both of you follow me to the bridge. Spock," who was looking much better, if still pale, "get to engineering. I imagine Scotty and Chekov did a number on the ship, we need her running again. Mr. Chekov, go with Spock. _Move_."

Everyone scrambled, scattering to their positions. Uhura found herself running after both the doctor and captain, wondering how they could still move like that. Somewhere along the mad dash, the captain had picked up a phaser so when they burst onto the bridge, the first thing Dr. Gain did was drop like a rock, unconscious. "Uhura, lock her in the ready room. Bones, take pilot for now. Scotty!"

"_Capt'n!"_ The engineer sounded unabashedly happy to hear his captain.

"Scotty, fix my ship and fix it yesterday!"

"_Aye, aye!"_

"Cupcake!"

"_Here sir." _

"Contain this situation _now._"

The captain was back and in fine form. In no time at all, the bridge was humming with repairs and energy. As soon as the sensor arrays were up, Spock tried to determine their location.

The main bridge screen snapped to life and everyone swivelled to stare curiously.

It was a good thing the captain was back because they were completely surrounded by a large number of antiquated but still deadly ships, all aiming directly at the_ Enterprise_.

"Shields!"

* * *

><p><em>Admiral Pike's office<em>

Pike was returning to his private office, muddling over the currently insane state of affairs when he heard a soft thump in the office. He paused, leant on his cane and listened.

"Dean, get out of that chair! We need him in a good mood!"

"Aww come on Sammy, it's an admiral's chair! Don't tell me you don't wanna try it."

Pike rolled his eyes. Of course they didn't stay on the _Impala_. Of course they were waiting in his office. And of course they needed his help.

"Feet off the damn desk, Dean. Now."

There were days when he thought he should have just taken over his father's lobster farm.

A second, louder thump interrupted his train of thought.

"Ow, the _fuck_, Sam?"

"I said out of the chair."

Someone sighed, a long, drawn-out expression of exasperation. "Do you need a timeout?"

"_Shut up Gabriel._"

Ooh, duality there. Definitely siblings. Pike figured it was time to interrupt before they blew up his office. Or committed homicide in it.

He pushed the door open just in time to see Dean bounce up off the floor and crack his knuckles. "Captain Winchester?" Pike asked mildly and watched in satisfaction as the wayward Winchester froze, deflated and then snapped to attention. "Would you care to explain why IO is squawking about traitors and jail breaks?" Pike demanded, scanning the room. SIO Gabriel, Sam, Dean and Ash, all looking rather sheepish. This was either going to end very well or it was going to explode in Pike's face.

And no, Pike wasn't going to put credits down on either conclusion.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

"Where are we, Spock?"

Spock prodded his console. Twice. Which equated to sheer bewilderment on his part. "Captain, we are orbiting Delta 5-B."

"What, the planet that was hit by the bugs the first time?"

"Indeed."

Kirk scratched his head. "This doesn't look like a devastated planet." Oh sure, it was still a little brown-looking, definitely not as lush as it should have been but his memory was pretty good and Delta 5-B definitely did not have an armada of this size when they'd visited a few days ago. "And they're all aiming at us."

"That is correct, Captain."

"Great. Scotty?"

"_Captain, I'm afraid I overdid it a wee bit_._ We're nae going to get impulse or warp back for another twenty minutes!"_

Kirk stared out at the armada before him. "I want four security officers to escort Dr. Gain up to the bridge." Silence fell over the assembled crew. Bones and Spock were stone-faced, Uhura livid with rage, Sulu and Chekov sitting stiff as pokers in their command chairs. Kirk shifted wearily in his chair, feeling complaining ribs and bumps all over his body. He hated waiting. And he was very tired right now. He could feel his temper, his self-control fraying.

The doctor was firmly and politely but not kindly escorted onto the bridge and she immediately fixed on the screen in front of her. "Well, well, well. Isn't this interesting? If you don't let me contact my people, you're all going to end up very, very dead. Which would be a shame. I was enjoying my encounters with the great heroes of Starfleet. Isn't that right, Commander Spock?"

"Captain, I believe the prisoner is labouring under the delusion that she was brought up here because she has something we need." Spock's voice was as even, emotionless and smooth as ever. Kirk idly wondered how he did it and then stepped up to bat.

"It seems that you're correct as usual, Mr. Spock. Let's find out how important this prisoner is to our opponents. Will they hold off because we have her or will they sacrifice her? Maybe she's not worth anything at all." She flinched and Kirk pounced. "Forgotten already. I guess we'll have to bring up Starc."

Gain's eyes flashed venomous green, bright and angry. "I'm worth much more than that Neanderthal ape!"

Kirk swivelled lazily to face Uhura. "Hail our friends out there and ask them."

* * *

><p><em>Admiral Pike's office<em>

Pike rubbed his forehead tiredly. What a mess. "I think IO needs an oversight committee," he muttered with resolve. Gabriel looked indignant, ready to protest but quailed under Pike's gimlet eye. "Over half of my headaches this past year have come from IO – either it's evidence of corruption or bungled ops that my people have to clean up."

Gabriel couldn't say anything to that.

"Right. So you're _sure_ this identity is correct?"

Ash made a strangled cat noise. "Yes, we're sure. Ash was very determined and very thorough," Sam supplied for the indignant navigator. Pike made a discreet hand movement, signalling that despite his best efforts, the office wasn't as secure as he would like. Sam cut off the ramble about how they took evidence with them and had only been caught when they tried to extricate themselves from the mainframe.

"Head back to the _Impala_," Pike said slowly. "Wait there. Keep your heads down and your ears open. We may have trouble coming our way. This individual wants to profit from conflict and right now Starfleet's not expecting any. I want you ready to mobilize in an instant. Gabriel, you're with me. Don't get caught because I won't be able to do jack about it."

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

Getting back on board the _Impala_ was a far trickier proposition than getting off. It involved back tracking and then crawling back up the stinking shaft without making too much noise or being seen. More than once, all three officers wished they were the size of Jo as they darted between shadows and then stared up the narrow chute.

"I hate this," Dean scowled. "Why does it have to be disguised as a garbage chute? Those were outdated in the 22nd century, man!"

Sam grunted as he tried to scoot along as fast as possible. "Because garbage chute sounds better than laundry chute. And the day Bobby put it in, you were being an ass."

"Oh yeah," Dean laughed, remembering yanking Bobby's chain until the engineer had threatened to take a durasteel sander to Dean's hair.

"Yeah," Sam growled, flicking a piece of rotten banana peel into Dean's face. He was pretty sure the food refuse smeared all around the chute was Bobby's revenge and had to wonder why the revenge had to include Sam.

He hauled himself out the top of the shaft and bumped into one of his alpha shift minions. "Sam!" the excitable Shari burbled happily. "We got rid of all the security guys and then we set up a whole bunch of interesting experiments down the _Impala_'s boarding ramp but after the first three squads couldn't make it two feet up the ramp, they quit." She frowned briefly, as if she found it mildly distressing that the security squads didn't want to play the fun game. "But it's okay now because Cas and Bobby got rid of the gas problem and locked up the ship and now Cas is up on the bridge brooding 'cause he's in charge all alone and doesn't like it – " Sam held up a hand.

"Whoa." He processed everything that had just been spewed at him machine-gun style. "Okay. Bobby got rid of the gas. Castiel is still in charge. And there are no intruders on the ship."

Shari stared at him like he was slow. "That's what I just said."

Dean popped out of the chute, followed by Ash, who recoiled from the overly sunny punk scientist with a twelve inch bubble-gum pink mohawk. Shari grinned toothily at Ash and wiggled her fingers in greeting. Sam was pretty sure Shari didn't actually want to nab Ash as a significant other, but she definitely liked riling him up with interesting suggestions.

"Shari," Sam cut her off before she could begin, "I want you to grab the rest of alpha shift and cover all entry points on the ship. Nothing lethal but we don't need outsiders on the ship, not when things could get squirrelly." Shari snapped to a salute, multiple earrings jangling before she darted off, her 'accidentally-artistically' stained lab coat flapping behind her.

"Sam. You need to tell them that lab coats are regulation white," Dean said for the umpteenth time.

Sam shrugged. They'd had this conversation before, they'd have it again. He re-issued lab coats when they started 'accidentally' staining their nicknames and lewd jokes into the fabric.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

As it turned out, Gain was as important to these Corelians and while the ships hadn't backed off, they did power down weapons, especially after it became disturbingly obvious that _Enterprise_ wasn't going anywhere or hurting anyone.

"Scotty, did you _have_ to drop the damned chip in the acid that you churn out of that still?" Kirk demanded, nerves and patience stretching very thin.

"_Apologies captain but I didnae want them arriving at their final destination if we were going to be outnumbered. I had no reason to think we weren't still proceeding at full impulse."_ Scotty's soothing voice showed he took no offence at the captain's short words. Everyone knew the captain was hurting and stressed.

Kirk knew it too and took a deep breath, trying to shut out his foul temper. "Right. Right. Thank you, Scotty."

"_I'll have her up in short order."_

"I don't doubt you will."

Uhura spun around on her stool. "Sir, I have an incoming transmission from the planet. It's a pre-recorded propaganda video, identified as such by an attached text message. They want you to see it before they release it to the Federation."

Kirk waved a hand at the screen and Uhura began playing it. The thing was well-made but borrowed heavily from the infamous WWII propaganda utilized by the Nazis. Basically, every non-human sentient life form in the Federation would be subjugated or exterminated like vile vermin and if the Federation did not recognize the sovereignty of the Corelian people, every habitable planet would suffer the fate of that second planet – eaten until it was nothing more than a lifeless rock.

Then the screen showed a countdown of six hours. "Captain Kirk, you have six minutes to surrender your vessel and return our august leader Starc to us or we start killing planets. And if you move from this location, you will have killed no less than five major trading partners who are seeking to join the Federation. Six minutes, Captain Kirk. Use them wisely."

Kirk stared at the screen for a few seconds, feeling the weight of despair. Six precious minutes to save his ship, the Federation and her allies. Talk about the weight of the world.

Then he accepted it, straightened his shoulders and faced the situation head on.

This was the _Enterprise_. She would never bow to injustice, nor would she see innocents killed.

Time to come up with a gambit to end this mad string of death and insanity forever.


	25. How Not to Surrender

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural or the other shows in this chapter (and I'm not telling who they are up here because that'll ruin the story).

* * *

><p>"<em>Captain Kirk, you have six minutes to surrender your vessel and return our august leader Starc to us or we start killing planets. And if you move from this location, you will have killed no less than five major trading partners who are seeking to join the Federation. Six minutes, Captain Kirk. Use them wisely."<em>

Kirk took a deep breath and watched the clock count down. Scotty needed eight minutes to get the ship online. He had to bluff for two after the clock ran out. And that still didn't really change the predicted outcome – functional _Enterprise_ or not.

"Cupcake, please tell me you have eyes on Starc," he requested over the comm, ignoring his complaining ribs.

"_He's missing, Captain," _Kirk's reliable chief of security replied, frustration threaded through the ever-present calm in his gruff voice.

Missing.

Shit.

"Walker?"

There was a slightly ashamed pause. _"Also missing, sir."_

And then the deck juddered convulsively under Kirk's feet and alarms began to whoop.

"Report!" Kirk barked.

"_Sabotage, capt'n!"_ Scotty shouted back. _"Someone set a bomb in the hull and we're losing atmosphere! Sealant systems are offline!"_

"Evacuate and seal the breached decks! Cupcake, find me those men _now_." He stayed unwillingly rooted to the captain's chair. Kirk knew that if he ran off at this precise moment in time to chase bad guys, Bones would probably sedate him into the next century.

Four minutes and twenty one seconds.

Three minutes and fifty three seconds.

Three minutes and forty two seconds.

"_Found Starc, sir but Walker's still at large,"_ Cupcake reported, sounding harried.

Kirk rifled through a few more plans in his head and finally replied, "Bring Starc to the bridge and keep looking for Walker."

Three minutes and twenty three seconds.

"_Deck sealed, capt'n and shields ready to go online. No engines yet though. We're still sitting ducks." _

Bless Scotty.

Three minutes fifteen seconds. He needed more variables to play with, something to twist and bend into a viable plan.

Why did they need the _Enterprise_?

Kirk's entire thought process ground to a screeching halt as the stray thought tickled at his mind.

They needed the ship for something or they would have already blown_ Enterprise_ to kingdom come. These fundamentalists had enough ships that they didn't really need the flagship's firepower. Kirk knew his ship was capable of dishing out a lot but she wasn't geared to be a weapon of mass destruction like the ships around them.

Why did they need the _Enterprise?_ Two minutes forty seconds.

He grinned slowly. The plan was laid out. It was a mad gamble at best but Kirk was suddenly feeling much better about what he was going to do.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

It surprised everyone at first.

For all Dean's get up and go fire, his energy and his inability to sit still most of the time, when he was on the trail of something, be it person, ship or an event, he could wait with all the cool calculating patience of a hunting tiger.

That was what he was doing right now.

Sitting calmly in his chair, flicking through the day's reports and occasionally glancing sideways to a busily engaged brother, Captain Winchester looked like he had been waiting for the past five minutes for a routine mission to start instead of three agonizing hours of threats from Starfleet Command and several attempts to broach a passively resisting _Impala_.

And then Sam sat bolt upright and swore. "Long-range scanners, on screen," he ordered and Dean tensed, setting the PADD aside.

Six, seven, eight, nine unidentified ships popping out of warp and cruised right past all of Starfleet's sensitive detection equipment, most of it as good as or better than the _Impala_'s. "Why hasn't Starfleet Command stopped them?" Dean asked in bewilderment.

"I don't think Starfleet could see them even if they were looking, Dean," Sam replied absently, punching buttons with a single-minded focus.

"What?"

"Well, it's kind of funny. A scanner update is logged in the tech database. Everyone in orbit or dock around Earth got this update except us. But," Sam put the code up on the screen beside the incoming ships, "the code doesn't _do_ anything unless you combine it with a cleverly hidden, dormant subroutine in every Starfleet scanner in the area, including ours. And when it's active, this clever little thing can effectively block out an entire band of frequencies. Those incoming ships just so happen to be operating on those frequencies. We're the only ship in the area that can see them because our friendly little traitor jumped the gun and had us arrested and locked down before the update could be implanted in the _Impala_'s datacore."

"Ash, what are the chances of us taking them on all by our lonesome?" Dean asked.

"Successfully, captain? Nil."

"Son of a bitch. Ideas, people?"

Castiel swivelled around in his chair. "Sam, you said _all_ ships in the area had been updated?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah. So?"

Castiel's face lightened from 'impending Earth-ending doom' into 'there's a minor chance of death.' "Well, I have been communicating with Commander McGee and he has informed me that Captain Gibbs is…paranoid about new software updates." He nodded towards the slumbering _Washington_. "They are on shore leave but the ship should be unaffected."

"Sam, get the word to Gibbs. We can take on the incoming ships if there are two of us to divide, conquer and cover each other's asses."

Naturally, that was when the demand for Starfleet's surrender came in.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Twenty seconds left. "Uhura, hail the leader and someone make sure Starc keeps his mouth shut," Kirk ordered brusquely, standing confidently at the front of the bridge. Cupcake grinned humourlessly and poked his captive with a small device that had Kirk raising an eyebrow. Another Sam Winchester special and he didn't recognize this one.

The screen flickered to show a rather pompous, bald individual sitting on a very large, very opulent cushioned chair of brushed black metal, a large hanging banner behind him depicting a green stooping bird crushing some sort of Starfleet blue serpent. Corpulent lips stretched over browning teeth and Kirk hid disgust beneath his captain's veneer. The man had a low, heavy voice, one that said he took himself very seriously. This first impression was only reinforced by the man's introduction. _"I am the Nameless One."_

"I am Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation star ship _Enterprise_ and we demand your immediate surrender and cessation of hostilities towards Federation allies and neutrals," Kirk recited calmly, posture open and relaxed, not showing a single whit of the tension currently whizzing around the bridge.

The man laughed uproariously, great rolls of fat jiggling merrily under black velvet and silk_. "They said you were an amusing man, Captain Kirk. They said you had the courage of a lion. I had thought those rumours exaggerated. I am glad to see they are not. However, you have just killed five planets. Do it."_ He flicked a casual hand to someone off screen and Kirk fought to keep himself under control.

If he gave up the _Enterprise_, they would kill the galaxy and Starfleet would lose all control of the situation.

If he fought back, they would kill the Federation.

And right now, he was putting all his faith in the people sent off with the _Impala_.

He had to believe Winchester got the antidote out. He had to believe that they were simply out of communications range.

Because otherwise he might have been tempted to crash his beautiful ship and his family into the crust of the planet in a mad solution to the no-win scenario they were currently ensnared in.

"You won't want to do that," Kirk shot back swiftly, hoping to snare this Nameless One's attention (Kirk hereby dubbed him Bob. No walking cliché dressed in black silk got to call himself Nameless One without Kirk wanting to laugh in his face. Bob was a much safer appellation).

Bob paused, raising a hairless eyebrow. _"Oh, and why not?"_

Excellent. For all that the Corelians wanted to go back to their roots, they needed a military genius and (Kirk should know) geniuses were rarely normal. This one looked like the hired type and the childish hired type at that.

Kirk strolled back to his chair, knowing that Bob was watching every move with disconcerting attention. He settled into his seat. "Spock, that terra-forming module in place yet?"

Spock didn't even blink. "Yes, captain." Kirk allowed himself a small modicum of victory.

Bob paled_. "Terra-forming?" _The Federation was still years away from developing a reliable terra-forming method. Oh, they could work miracles with careful environmental manipulation and they could predict the weather with uncanny accuracy, but real, bona-fide terra-forming had yet to end well.

Kirk smiled coldly. "Yes. You remember that planet you ruined, killing every living thing on that vibrant jungle planet? I was given orders to release the experimental module on the planet. But you obviously know what could happen to your planet if I trigger that module on Corelis." And now he crossed his fingers, hoping that the Corelians would take the bait. Of course, Kirk was screwed if Bob was really just a mercenary and didn't really give two damns about Corelis.

Bob stared at him, clearly thinking over the new situation. Then he received some sort of signal off-screen and his face lightened as Kirk's heart sank. _"I don't think we'd mind. After all, we just conquered Earth."_

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Cut all the lights and take power to minimum! Ash, get in contact with Gibbs and don't get caught!" Dean barked orders as the propaganda tape dictating the terms of Earth's surrender came to an end. "Starfleet must know they're blind by now so they're all going to be panicking."

Ash scowled at his computer. "Sir, Starfleet's still jamming our communications and it'll take both Sam and I an hour or so to untangle that."

Dean growled. They didn't have an hour. They had maybe five minutes.

And then there was a little blinking light over on the bridge of the _Washington_. "Morse code," Castiel commented. "It says that Gabriel told Gibbs he might be needed and they're on standby, waiting for us to make the first move."

Dean grinned. "Well then, what the hell are we waiting for? Tell Gibbs I bet we nail more ships than he does."

Sam rolled his eyes but apparently blinked their own little light because Castiel suddenly looked primmer than a little old grandma. "I'm not translating that, sir. Suffice to say they are not going to allow you to win."

"Excellent. Cas, take us into battle and don't bother waiting for the bad guys to hit first. Sam, untangle our communications and it'd better damn well take less than an hour."

_Impala_ darted out of space dock, the _Washington_ hot on her tail, both ships sailing into battle. The nine enemy ships seemed more than a little surprised to see resistance of any kind and Ash used that to his advantage, making use of the unguarded moment to slam several ships' vital systems in a broad phaser sweep. _Washington_ followed suit and Ash noted irritably that the other ship managed to hit four opponents while he only hit two.

The game was on and the battle for Earth joined.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk barely kept his mouth clamped shut, holding back the desperately reflexive "You're lying." Instead, he forced a brief mask of blankness before regrouping. "If you've taken Earth," he said coldly, "then we have no reason to keep you alive. Spock, hit the terra-forming module. _Enterprise_, prepare for battle." And if Dean Winchester had let these idiot Corelians take their home planet, the _Enterprise_ was going to kick _Impala_'s ass to the edge of the universe and back.

"_You'll kill millions of children,"_ Bob said silkily.

Kirk stood in a movement his crew would recognize as steely resolve. "And how many have you killed in the past week?"

He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up this façade when there was a shout in Bob's 'throne' room and the leader looked very surprised. Starfleet-issue phaser fire streaked across the room as Uhura practically bounced in her seat. "Sir! _Los Angeles_ is hailing!"

A broad hand waved in front of Bob's camera, interrupting Kirk's order to put the _Los Angeles_ on screen. _"Commander Sam Hanna, _Los Angeles_ calling the _Enterprise._ Situation on-planet is now under control. We also jammed the signal going out to those five planets. Feel free to raise a little hell, _Enterprise_." _

The relief on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ was palpable, quickly turning to red-hot anger. "Red alert. Not a single ship escapes today. Do you hear me?" Kirk demanded with all the controlled rage of a righteous man. "Starc, watch your fleet fall apart before your eyes. Uhura, patch Callen through."

The _Los Angeles_ captain nodded shortly as soon as the screen stabilized. _"Glad to see _Enterprise_ in one piece. We were afraid the IO messenger was too late. As it was, I don't think we've ever run such a crazy, multi-faceted operation without any planning before this."_

Kirk grinned briefly. "Damn, Gabriel's good."

"_Gabriel?" _Callen blinked in confusion. _"The SIO? Was he supposed to come? Because I didn't know he was into this sector of space. He wasn't the one who contacted us. As far as I know, he's on Earth with Pike trying to keep Winchester from getting court-martialled for treason. No, this was a junior IO, pretty thing but in a real hurry to get us the information about the Corelian home planet, the locations of the threatened planets and the chemical to kill the bugs before she split. We dropped her off a few star bases back."_

Kirk felt his jaw drop. "Brunette, big doe-eyes and a killer figure?"

"_Yeah, you know her? Said her code-name for this run was Bell and not to worry about the bill, whatever that means."_

Kirk threw his head back and laughed despite the situation. "Yeah, yeah I know her. She's long gone by now. We shouldn't waste this opportunity."

Callen eyed his fellow captain like he was going a little crazier than usual but shrugged and didn't argue.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em> limped towards her enemies, phasers striking out as the _Los Angeles_ darted in at maximum impulse, covering for her hobbled sister as Scotty cursed and beat impulse power online, giving them a fighting chance. And they managed to hang in there just long enough to put the run on the Corelian fleet.

The _Enterprise_ bridge breathed a huge sigh of relief when the leader of the Corelian fleet surrendered and Kirk refused to hand off negotiations to Callen. No weaknesses would be shown, not until the Corelians weren't looking, and his bridge crew knew it. They sat stoic and grim as Kirk extracted conditions of surrender and ordered the Corelian captains into the _Los Angeles_ bridge.

Then the screen snapped off and the _Enterprise_ bridge breathed a huge sigh of relief, shoulders slumping, faces wincing and bruises prodded at gently as Kirk realized they'd done it yet again.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

The aftermath of a battle was always Dean's least favourite bit of the whole shebang. A best case aftermath was always a lot of logistics and organizing and justification of actions taken. Worst case? Not really worth thinking about.

Right now, he was in the middle of the biggest justification of his career and internally vowing to never, ever mock Sam's inclination for law because right now a highly irritated commander was busy dressing down an entire board of admirals, point by point, play by play with an irrefutable, rock-solid case. The Admiralty had really made Sam mad when they threatened to court-martial the _Impala_ despite having saved the planet and send the _Washington _into oblivion as well for helping out.

So Dean was enjoying the moment (he swore he saw Admiral Komack squirming) but also recognizing that his next few days were going to be miserable.

And then a flinty eyed Sam dropped the bombshell right out of the blue. "And Captain Winchester, as per his right under Federation law, is charging Intelligence Office Director Matthew Potts of high treason against the Federation, mass conspiracy, aiding and abetting two known Federation traitors and ordering the assault of multiple Starfleet vessels and their crews."

The Admiralty froze as Sam slapped the thick, printed and bound investigation brief onto the desk in front of him with a muted, weighty thump. Dean knew Sam had been building that brief for several months and it would have taken his geek-a-zoid brother less than an hour to add the identity of the individual and the most recent charges to his tome of accusations.

"This is preposterous!" Admiral Cartwright blustered, a close friend of Potts.

Dean glanced over at his brother, who nodded. Time for Dean to step up. "If you're going to deny and bury this, I swear to you," Dean began in a deadly serious tone of voice, "I will resign my commission, give up my ship and personally ensure that every single word of this corruption gets out to every major news network in the Federation."

The Admiralty bristled and several of the old farts turned to glare at a serene Pike, who shrugged, clearly agreeing with his wayward subordinate.

Dean paced up to the centre of the round table where everyone could see him. "This is a matter of integrity. No one is to blame for Potts' actions but Potts himself unless we choose to ignore what he has done. And if we do, then we are worse than Potts could have ever been. I refuse to believe Starfleet is that weak."

The words hung ugly in the air, given unprecedented weight when delivered by the usually cocky, light-hearted smartass that was Captain Winchester.

Admiral Pike limped forward, leaning on his cane. "Thank you, Captain Winchester. I'll take it from here. I understand you have a ship to look after?"

Dean saluted and spun on his heel, escaping the suffocating room with alacrity, Sam dogging his steps like a shadow.

"Admirals," he hissed under his breath. Sam chuckled beside him. "I swear, I'm never going to be one."

"Famous last words, dude," Sam smirked and Dean glared at him.

"No way in hell."

Sam grinned all the way back to the_ Impala_ and Dean had to resist the urge to deck him.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Right now, Kirk determined wearily, Callen was his new best friend. The _Los Angeles_ crew was fresh, alert and hungry for battle, circling the tired _Enterprise_ like a guardian of sorts as the flagship tried to pull herself together. The Corelians had surrendered and things were finally under control.

And Callen had donated a team of medics and his CMO Dr. Nate Getz as well as his first officer Sam Hanna to interrogate and keep an eye on the three high-profile criminals sitting in the _Enterprise_'s hold so that the rest of the crew could get some sleep.

Kirk had kicked his crew off the bridge and was ignoring his pounding head in favour of running a few more diagnostics when the bridge lift swished open and Callen strode onto the bridge. "Bones says to tell you you're a workaholic idiot and to get your ass to bed before I send Hetty up here to sedate your ass into next week. I can tell you right now that while Hetty has many talents, gently employing a hypo is not one of them."

"Hetty?" Kirk asked in confusion.

Callen shrugged. "Apparently Nate isn't mean enough for Bones' taste. Come on man, you look like shit. Even Spock is off duty."

Kirk stared at the PADD in his hands for a minute before collapsing in on himself and admitting defeat. "Fine."

Callen grinned and offered him a hand out of the captain's chair. "That's the spirit. We'll make sure nothing happens to the _Enterprise_ while you regroup. Everything's wrapped up and under control."

Kirk eyed the optimistic man with prejudice.

"Murphy's law, Callen. Why the hell did you have to say it?"


	26. The Fat Lady Sings

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS or NCIS: LA.

* * *

><p>Despite Callen's damning words, Kirk managed to get a shower, food and a decent night's sleep without disruption. <em>Los Angeles<em> security officers were combing the _Enterprise_ for the missing Walker and when Kirk finally rejoined the land of the living, he found Spock hungrily leading the hunt, dark green bruises and stiff movements only fuelling the flames. Spock didn't often get his ass handed to him and he wasn't going to let this one go.

Kirk sank into his captain's chair with a still-tired sigh of relief. Even if they hadn't found Walker, he had Gain and Starc in custody and the _Enterprise_ was ready to head home. "Sir, report from Starfleet," Uhura urged and Kirk picked up the PADD, flipping through the data. The _Enterprise _crew knew something had gone down at Starfleet Command and that the _Impala _and _Washington _had handled it but beyond that, they really hadn't needed to know the details when they were all exhausted and tired.

He chuckled briefly. "_Impala_ saves the day again." The command crew relaxed, hearing their captain at ease. All of them probably could have snuck a peek at Kirk's files but refused to do so out of respect for their captain. "Uhura, distribute the files throughout the ship so everyone can have a read at their leisure. I want Walker to know that the Corelians failed, I have his co-conspirators and this cute little charade of his is over."

Uhura nodded sharply and completed her task with no small amount of glee. After that, the morning went smoothly. Scotty put the _Enterprise_ back together, apologizing to his beloved ship the whole while, the _Los Angeles _security sweeps were replaced by _Enterprise_ personnel and the _Los Angeles_ returned to her diplomatic relations two sectors over.

But the longer Kirk waited to hear that Cupcake had found Walker, the more uneasy he became. It was a niggling feeling, like a tribble chewing on your baby toe – harmless, hardly even annoying, but there nonetheless. He shifted in his seat for the umpteenth time and stared at the empty science station. If anyone could find Walker, it would be Spock. He rattled his fingers on the arm of his chair. If Kirk wasn't waiting for an admiral to call, he'd be out helping.

"Captain," Uhura said with infinite patience, "if the admiral calls, protocol demands that I inform him of the situation at hand." Kirk nodded absently and she rolled her eyes. For all of his quick thinking, her captain was still dense sometimes. "It would take me a minute, sir."

Kirk was confused but refused to admit it. "A minute."

"Approximately the amount of time it would take you, sir, to reach the bridge."

Oh. He understood now. And felt slightly stupid. "Right. Sulu, you have the conn." With that, the captain was gone off the bridge in a flash.

"Thank goodness," a rattled Chekov sighed and then clapped a hand over his mouth.

Secretly, everyone else on the bridge agreed with him.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"Well then," Dean said to no one and everyone all at once, rubbing his hands together. "We've saved the planet, exposed the bad guys, learned that the _Enterprise_ is in one piece and all the admirals except possibly Pike and Vance hate our guts."

Ash rolled his eyes and nudged Cas. "Captain's always had a talent for understatement."

Dean shot his navigator a mild glare before turning to his brother. "Sam?"

"We're destined for the dark side of Gamma quadrant," Sam replied, "and we depart ASAP for a very important mission that I will create on our way. I think we're destined for Lima 8D21, famed for its beaches. They asked for a Starfleet ship to attend their treaty signing. It involves the aforementioned beaches, copious amounts of alcohol and lots of good food." Sam finished typing a long string of sequencing into his station and sat back with satisfaction. "No more buggy software on the ship, captain."

Dean grinned, swivelling back and forth in his chair like a kid. "Excellent. Let's get out of Dodge before someone decides we really do need court-martialling."

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles<em>

Callen was busy apologizing to the rather understanding planetary leader when a burst of static over his comm had him frowning in confusion. "Excuse me," he said to the prime minister, who waved his tentacles obligingly. "Sam, come in," Callen barked, glancing up through the yellow sky towards the _Los Angeles_' general location.

There was no response.

He tapped his comm for immediate emergency beam up.

Nothing.

"Away team with me. We're leaving. Now."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk was buried deep in engineering looking for places a paranoid, cornered IO would hide when the entire ship shuddered under him and alarms began to whoop. Kirk held his breath, hoping that was the end of it. The sounds of explosions didn't die away though, growing stronger until Kirk could hear the deadly hiss of atmosphere escaping even in the bowels of the ship, far away from the hull.

He extricated himself with all speed, darting to the nearest comm post. "Scotty, report!"

"Behind you, capt'n and we've got big problems," the engineer shouted, barrelling around the corner at full speed. "Sir, Walker just ripped the lady's hull open in six different locations and the holes are big enough that we're not going to get the sealing systems online in time."

"Get the affected decks sealed off! Uhura, distress call to any and all ships in the area. I don't care if they're Starfleet, Orion or Romulan, we're going to need atmosphere and soon! Is the_ Los Angeles_ in the area?"

"_Not answering hails, sir,"_ the communications officer replied, her voice muffled through an O2 mask. _"We've got a minor atmosphere leak on the bridge as well. Sealant systems offline ship-wide."_

Shit. "Hang in there Uhura and be prepared to abandon the bridge if necessary. Scotty?"

"_On it, sir!"_

"Bones!" Kirk demanded next.

"_I'm busy!"_ the irritable CMO barked.

"Status of the infirmary?"

"_Secure at the moment, Jim but the injured are pouring in. You're going to be running on a skeleton crew if this keeps up." _

Kirk rubbed a hand over his face. "Bones, anyone with mild injuries is going to have to stay on duty. I need everyone I can get."

"_Aye captain." _

"Spock!"

"_Attempting to affect repairs on deck eight sir,"_ the first officer replied, his voice also muffled by an oxygen mask.

"Carry on then." Kirk stood silently for a minute, thinking. They hadn't found Walker. _Los Angeles_ wasn't replying. There had been a lot of traffic between the _Los Angeles_ and the _Enterprise_. If Kirk had to hazard a guess, he'd say that Walker was no longer on the ship. "Cupcake, what's the status of the brig?"

"_I can't raise them, sir. Sounds like one of the smaller explosions was right near there."_

"Small enough to bust open a cell door and allow Starc to overpower the guards?"

"_Yes sir." _

Damn. Double damn. "Lock down any and all laboratories and put a guard on the infirmary. Gain is most likely on the loose and I don't want her getting her mitts on any form of airborne disease."

* * *

><p>Up on Deck 18, Cupcake scowled at the comm. The captain was probably right. He always was. His people were going to be spread awfully thin though, covering all the labs and the infirmary. "You heard the captain, move! Keep your eyes open and help out where you can but so help me if I find out that you let your guard down and Gain gets what she wants…" Cupcake's voice trailed off as his security personnel scrambled for the door. It wasn't often that their commander made threats but he always followed through and the ones he left hanging? You just didn't fail because you really didn't want to experience Cupcake's wrath.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles<em>

The natives had lent Callen a shuttle and he was now chugging his way up to his eerily silent ship, cursing the less-advanced craft he was currently piloting six ways to Sunday. Then the _Los Angeles_ came into focus on the limited long-range scanners and Callen felt his heart drop down to somewhere around his ankles as the worried away team behind him tensed up even more.

She was venting a long silvery stream of atmosphere from the recreational decks. They were tucked back in a protected area of the ship, well shielded from exterior attack but from the inside it would be a simple job to plant several big charges along the hull and the rec-decks were a long way from anything that might be jury-rigged to seal up the breach.

"_Los Angeles,_ come in. This is the captain." Callen tried again but the ship didn't respond. "Assume we're going in hot," Callen barked over his shoulder. Sam had been left in charge. If he and Hetty couldn't handle the situation, you could be damned sure that Callen would have it work cut out for him. In fact, he had deliberately taken a team of green newbies down with him to give them a little seasoning and it was showing right now in their wide eyes and pallid complexions. "Follow my lead and we'll be fine," he reassured, checking over his phaser and praying that he wasn't lying through his teeth.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

They were halfway to their little working vacation when Sam started in his chair, having stumbled across an alarming message. "Red alert emergency from _Enterprise_, sabotage onboard, massive atmosphere venting," he reported with eerie, deceptive calm.

"Maximum warp," Dean ordered. They didn't need to hear anything else. "Sam, check on the _Los Angeles_."

The _Impala_ whined in protest as Castiel and Ash pushed her to the absolute hilt. Sam scrambled to find something, anything. "Nothing," he reported finally. "I've sent the _Washington_ to have a look though. Better to be paranoid and in one piece than the alternative."

Dean leaned forward in his chair, as if he could urge the _Impala_ to greater speeds just through his sheer force of will. Massive atmosphere venting. The last time they had heard that alert from a Starfleet ship, the poor Miranda-class vessel had been airless in eight minutes. No survivors.

_Enterprise_ was not going to suffer the same fate if the _Impala_ had anything to say about it.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk was frantically trying to put his best girl back together. Ten decks were currently out of commission, sealed off completely. The bridge had been lost. Infirmary was full of serious injuries. Gain was missing. And worst of all, one great gaping rent in the hull had managed to edge its way into the main ventilation system and was steadily drawing air from all over the ship into hard vacuum. Scotty and Chekov were swearing in five different languages between them as they tried to unscramble the sealing system currently off line.

Uhura was down in engineering, which had been unofficially dubbed the new 'bridge.' A clever Starfleet officer could do just about anything from engineering and right now Uhura was frantically broadcasting to anyone and everyone who might be listening. "Captain, _Impala_'s on the way!" she finally reported with the first thread of hope Kirk had heard since this SNAFU started.

He didn't have time to reply with more than a few words as a crew member jammed a vacuum suit helmet over his head. He was going out with the sealer 'bot in an attempt to plug that hole in the ventilation system. If he didn't, the _Enterprise_ was going to become a no-atmosphere situation and he'd have to start ordering people into escape pods.

If the pods weren't already compromised. Sulu was checking out that possibility and Kirk really didn't want Sulu to confirm what Kirk already suspected. All Kirk could do was focus as he and the 'bot hurtled up the shaft towards the crack. Activating the magnetic repulsors, he braked to a halt beside the innocuous six by four inch hole that was killing his ship. The job was simple but torturously slow and hard work, fighting against the rush of vital, precious air escaping the ship. If Kirk screwed this up, he could be yanked away from his nice, life-saving magnetic boots and forced through that tiny crack and frankly, that scenario just wasn't on Kirk's top ten list of ways to go.

Carefully filling the hole with the foaming sealant, Kirk watched in satisfaction as the hole grew smaller and smaller, air screaming as it tried to cram itself through the sealant. When the hole plugged and air finally stopped escaping with an abrupt release, Kirk moved to the second phase, welding durasteel all around the area and creating a bulkhead that would hold for longer than the temporary foam.

As a release of tension and fear, he reapplied foam all around the bulkhead and reinforced any areas that might be vulnerable to further twisting or tearing metal. Letting out a long breath, Kirk used his magnetized gloves and boots to start clumping back down the shaft to where his crew was frantically trying to locate their missing prisoners and replenish the precious air lost.

"Report," Kirk barked as soon as his feet hit the engineering deck, ignoring his screaming ribs and bruises.

"Not good, capt'n. We lost 48% atmosphere and that's only after we sealed off the damaged decks and shifted air from unused areas of the ship."

Half of their air, gone in less than ten minutes. "Life pods?"

The comm crackled briefly before Sulu cursed breathlessly. _"Completely disabled. Walker had all night to get it done sir," _he finished apologetically.

Kirk closed his eyes briefly. "All right. Thanks, Sulu. Scotty, get him out of there and then vent the air from those compartments as well. Uhura,_ Impala_ ETA."

"Fourteen minutes, sir."

"Spock?" Kirk crossed his fingers in a childish wish.

"_Nothing yet, captain." _

"_Sir!"_ Cupcake's voice was taut with tension. _"We just found a dead security officer outside of a minor chemical lab." _

Then there was an ominous hiss in the ventilation shaft.

* * *

><p><em>Washington<em>

"_Impala_ says to check on the _Los Angeles_?" Gibbs asked with mild curiosity. The _Washington_ was parked on the outer edges of Earth's solar system as an early warning but the _Hokkaido _was sitting out with them. It would be the matter of forty minutes at maximum warp to do as the _Impala_ requested.

"Apparently there's been a massive act of sabotage on the _Enterprise_ and _Impala_ is worried about the _Los Angeles_. No one can get in contact with her," Ziva reported with cool professionalism.

Gibbs frowned. "Dinozzo, max warp. Can't hurt to take a look."

"And if nothing's wrong, Winchester can treat us to a night out on the town!" his 2IC replied with good humour as he pushed the ship to top speed. McGee elbowed him sharply as he set in course.

"This is the _Enterprise_ we're talking about," he reminded Dinozzo. "You can bet it's already gone to worst-case scenario."

Dinozzo shrugged. "McGeek has a point, for once."

"I find that McGee often has a point. It is far more likely to be valid than anything you come up with, Tony," Ziva shot back.

Gibbs glared and everyone shut up, focusing on the task at hand.

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles<em>

Callen managed to set his shuttle down in the _LA_'s hangar bay with no trouble and now his team was busy sweeping main corridors. It was silent. Too silent.

A quick scan using a security terminal revealed that there were at least 400 people in the hold and the ship was still venting atmosphere. The comm suddenly crackled. _"Captain Callen, I know you're on board. My name is Gordon Walker and I am the one holding your ship hostage. Come down to the hold unless you wish to kill everyone, yourself included. I have a rather large bomb in my hand and absolutely nothing to lose anymore. Commander Hanna, would you care to confirm my intentions?"_

"_Not really,"_ Callen's first officer drawled, but the captain could hear the resignation in the big man's voice. Walker was deadly serious and he had Sam over a barrel. The situation was deteriorating by the second.

"_Well, captain? Do you want to hear my demands?"_

Callen glanced around the hallway intersection he was currently standing at, brain racing at a thousand parsecs a minute. "Sure. I'll listen as I walk, shall I?" Come on Walker, Callen silently begged. Kirk had told the _LA_ captain that Walker had a runaway mouth and an ego to match.

Sure enough, Walker began to extol at length about how clever he was and how it was useless for Callen to resist and soon everyone would see things his way. And the man ever so helpfully let it slip that he had captured all of Callen's bridge crew, listing each member with manic relish, up to and including his science officer Nell Jones.

One of the new security officers opened his mouth to exclaim at that revelation but Callen shot him a glare fit to kill, one that practically screamed _shut up_. They didn't know if Walker was watching or listening. And if Hetty was on the loose, when she decided to make her move, things would start to happen quickly. Until then, the most they could do was keep their mouths shut and let her work.

The surprised security officer found himself jabbed by his equals' elbows and glared at by his superiors before he was absorbed into the heart of the group where he could be watched carefully. Callen felt the soft draw of breeze that told him the ship was losing atmosphere at an alarming rate. "Look Walker, if you want this to succeed, someone has to seal the gaping crack up on the rec decks. Either let me seal off the decks or do it yourself, but it has to be done or we'll all be dead in less than ten minutes."

There was a pause. _"You do that and only that. You have exactly sixty seconds."_

Callen raised his eyebrows in surprise. Clearly Walker was either stupid or sleep-deprived. Perhaps dehydrated or starving. In Walker's position, Callen would _never_ have given a ship's captain access to vital systems like that. But then again, Walker had been on the run from the _Enterprise_ security teams for the past forty eighth hours and the _Enterprise_ ran a tight security crew. After that, he would have been chased by _LA_ security and Callen knew Sam could match _Enterprise_'s famed Cupcake in efficiency and skill. Stopping off at engineering, Callen rattled through the passcodes necessary and slammed down the doors that would seal off the affected decks. Atmosphere reading at 70%. Shit. That gave them about four hours of air, assuming the hydroponics could handle the increased carbon cycling speed. At least the life pods were still operational. A quick peek at the cameras showed Gordon Walker standing in a sea of seated _LA_ personnel, bridge crew in the front.

And Gordon Walker was wired up to a bomb that was big enough to blow a huge chasm in the hold. Everyone would be dead instantly. On top of that, the bomb was actually wired to Walker himself, surgically attached to his chest. Too high or too low of a pulse and the bomb would detonate.

Perfect. A suicide bomber. Callen thought about asking himself if the day could possibly get any worse but remembered Kirk's reaction to Callen's earlier statement about everything being under control.

The _LA_ captain decided not to tempt fate.


	27. Hold Your Breath

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS or NCIS: LA

* * *

><p>The <em>Impala <em>arrived to a scene of chaos. Debris and the ghoulishly silver puffs of gas leaked from six big holes in the _Enterprise_'s saucer and lower body. Lights were flickering on several decks and the connection to Uhura was sketch at best. The bridge crew steeled themselves for the worst case scenario. "We're going to emergency beam you all over," Dean ordered over the comm.

Uhura shook her head over the scratchy connection. _"Absolutely not, sir."_

Dean raised his eyebrows. "I beg your pardon, _Lieutenant_?"

"_Sir, we can't. We don't know where Gain or Starc are. At the moment, the Impala hasn't come in contact with either. You'd have to beam us over individually, affirming our identity as you went."_ She coughed lightly and someone offered her a mask that she waved off.

"Gain's loose?" Dean demanded and suddenly the cough made sense. "The remaining air's compromised."

Uhura tried to smile at him and failed. _"It's been an interesting day." _

Dean scowled. "Patch me through to Kirk." There was a pause.

"_Winchester."_ Kirk's voice was breathless, there was no visual and clearly the _Enterprise_ captain was working on six different things all at once.

"I'm going to start beaming people over. Infirmary first. I'll get Dr. McCoy to confirm every person's identity. We'll do it in batches of five and Jo will be standing by with a security team. If we can't confirm someone, we'll throw them in the brig." Dean finished up succinctly.

"_Good. Do it,"_ Kirk replied. _"And don't let either of those rats onto your ship."_

"Understood," Dean promised, hearing the anger and self-recrimination humming in Kirk's voice.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk had taken over the hunt for the two missing agents and had arrived at his last option. "Cupcake," he said coldly, "station a full security team at the hold and the infirmary. Full identity check for everyone. Issue oxygen masks after they've been confirmed. Once everyone is either in the hold or the infirmary, we vent the ship." Cupcake saluted sharply, eyes hard.

"Spock," Kirk turned to his loyal first officer. "I don't care how you do it but get that poison out of the air."

"Understood, captain," Spock replied, his voice low and gravely with contaminant. The Vulcan had gone into the thickest of the toxin to drag out a fresh-faced ensign who was now in the ICU section of the infirmary. The infirmary was now on a closed oxygen loop, its heavy-duty scrubbers keeping most of Gain's toxin out. That would only last for five hours though. After that, even those scrubbers would overload with carbon dioxide.

"They're looking to destroy the ship," Kirk mused aloud, Sulu waiting patiently at his side. Chekov was still trying to untangle the ship's sealant systems – several stress cracks were creeping dangerously close to necessary, atmosphere-positive systems. Uhura was coordinating with the_ Impala_ and the rest of the bridge crew was obviously busy. Solid, dependable Sulu though, was at Kirk's disposal.

"Where would you go," Kirk asked, "if you wanted to rip the ship apart but needed to survive the event?"

"Life pods or shuttle. I'd say shuttle because the life pods are completely disabled. Additionally, we're on high alert – Gain and Starc should know they'll have absolutely no chance of making it onto the _Impala,_" Sulu said confidently, dark eyes scanning the halls around them calmly.

"Shuttle," Kirk concluded.

Sulu checked his belt for a phaser and the nifty little expanding blade (Kirk still wanted one). "Ready, sir."

That was all Kirk needed.

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles<em>

Callen stood in the door to the hold, hands up. His phaser sat in front of him on the ground, joined by the phasers of his security team. Moving with careful deliberation and carefully avoiding confronting the crazy gleam in Walker's eye, Callen pushed his men to sit down at the back of the crowd.

They'd met Hetty on their way down. Well, strictly speaking, they'd found a cute little data transmitter with a real paper and ink note attached instructing Callen to carry it somewhere Walker wouldn't find it.

Now he was praying the chip would do its job as he walked up to the madman. "Are you ready to listen?" Walker demanded. Callen noticed the shaking hands, the shadowed eyes. Walker was clinging to his last straw with a few fingers and when IO went down, they tended to do so in flames.

"I'm listening," Callen replied soothingly, carefully sitting down beside Sam, who was busy sending his captain 'are you _insane_' glares.

That was Walker's trigger. He paced back and forth spilling his rhetoric about how Starfleet needed to cleanse itself of filthy aliens. Callen deliberately did not glance over at the poor terrified Orion scientist quivering in his line of sight. Poor Dr. Haili was one of the friendliest, bubbliest people he'd ever met, but she had no stomach for violence, never went off-ship and if Walker tried to make an example of her – Callen shook that thought from his head.

"Come on Hetty," he muttered to himself as Walker's knees began to shake. Callen could practically see the pulse beating through Walker's skin. A question asked of Nate with his eyes had the doctor shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Walker was going to crash and when he did, the bomb would go off.

Scratch that. The home-made bomb would go off. Callen realized the thing had been cannibalized from either the _Enterprise_ or the _LA_ and in either case it didn't look like Walker particularly knew what he was doing. Yet another factor to add to this unstable situation.

Callen turned his attention to scanning the hold's darker corners and ventilation shafts. Sam would elbow him if he had to pay attention to Walker. No sign of Hetty, no signal to the captain – there! A small wink of silver, a mirror probably. Hetty liked the sneakiest, subtlest approach. If it wasn't high tech, it couldn't give you away, she always said.

Morse code. She wanted him to approach and knock Walker out. But – Callen squinted to make sure he got it all – don't let Walker get too excited. So a sudden drop in heartbeat was good but a sudden spike was bad. Callen waited until Walker wheeled on his heel and then with all the silence of a black-ops soldier, ghosted up behind the man and applied the bastardized Vulcan nerve pinch that had taken him a year to master.

Walker dropped like a stone.

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Just before he and Sulu stormed the shuttle bay, Kirk got confirmation that the infirmary had been evacuated and they were working on the hold. Scotty was refusing to leave and had just found a rather nasty bomb wired into the warp cores. Kirk had considered ordering the excitable Scot off the ship but one of the hardest command lessons a captain had to learn was this: issuing an order you know won't be followed is a very bad idea. So he said nothing at all, to both Sulu and Scotty's astonished surprise, just checked out the shuttle bay and noticed that exactly two extra lights were lit up on the _Newton_.

Gesturing with quick, sharp motions, Kirk led a silent charge into the bay, slipping behind crates and barrels in time to hear Gain and Starc arguing viciously. Holding up a hand, he and Sulu crouched down to listen.

"Are you insane?" Gain demanded, her voice quiet but shrill, high with anger.

Starc growled, towering over the slight scientist. "I want the Federation dogs dead!"

Gain threw up her hands in frustration. "They _will_ be dead! And the _Enterprise_ will be a symbol of what happens when people cross us!"

"But they are not dead yet and the _Impala_, curse its arrogant captain, is already here, saving _Enterprise_ crew members! We should make a break for it with the shuttle and blow the ship."

Kirk scowled and turned to Sulu. To his surprise, the pilot had a side panel on the shuttle pried up, fishing around in the wires of the shuttle with a small pair of wire nippers. A quick snip had the shuttle door sliding shut. A second pluck saw all the lights on the shuttle flicker, stutter and fail. Then Sulu pulled out his phaser, adjusted the setting to kill and shot the snot out of the entire wiring system.

Looking up with a cheeky grin, the Japanese-American pilot shrugged. "Paid attention to Scotty when it counted. My skills might be limited but they're usually helpful." Kirk threw his head back and laughed in relief, hearing Starc futilely pounding on the door of the shuttle.

"Why didn't you mention it?"

Sulu shrugged again. "Wasn't entirely sure I'd succeed. If I grabbed the wrong wire, well…" Kirk took a glance at the melted, ruined circuit board and frowned.

"Sulu, you would have either electrocuted yourself or blown this whole hangar to hell."

Sulu wilted just a bit and Kirk tried to decide if he wanted to throttle his clever pilot or thump him on the back in congratulations. He chose optimism. "I'm not saying I want you around as the expert on disabling shuttles, but I'm glad you succeeded. Now," and Kirk cracked his knuckles happily. "We can gas them and turn them over to Bones. He can keep them out the whole way back to Earth."

Sulu shuddered. "You're a cruel, cruel man Captain."

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles<em>

By the time the _Washington _arrived to take on the wounded and donate 10% of their atmosphere, Walker was thoroughly chained and locked in the _LA_ brig, actually foaming at the mouth as he ranted and raved.

Callen hadn't interrogated or even seen the man. He was busy trying to contain the situation, determine who was missing and who was dead and make sure that they didn't have to limp back to a star base on impulse power. Eric didn't like the idea of going to warp with the rec decks open wide and Callen agreed but couldn't afford to spend two weeks limping back to repairs. Neither option was good.

On the _LA_'s big view screen, Gibbs eyed the tense _LA_ captain with something approaching compassion. _"Can't give you any more atmosphere, not with my personnel capacity at max,"_ he said, _"but I can get two repair ships out here within eight hours to patch up those decks."_ Callen was sceptical. Repair ships rarely ventured far from their star bases because they were giant, unwieldy, slow and staffed by civilians to boot.

The silver-haired captain leaned forward in his chair. _"You need warp speed. You need a repair. I'll get it to you."_ Truth rang clear in every word and it sounded like something Callen himself would say, a promise he would make because it was the right thing to do.

"_Plus,"_ Gibbs said grimly, _"repair ships are going to have to leave their star bases. Enterprise put out a massive atmosphere venting alert."_ Callen's blood ran cold. _Los Angeles_ had been in trouble, but they hadn't been that desperate. And for Kirk to put out an alert like that, it had to have been bad.

"Have you heard from them?" he asked.

Gibbs shook his head._ "_Impala_ was responding. Between Kirk and Winchester they'll sort it out."_ He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Callen.

"Let's hope so."

* * *

><p><em>Enterprise<em>

Kirk had just finished dumping Starc and Gain in cells on opposite sides of the brig and turned Bones loose when his comm chirped. _"Captain, I have successfully determined an appropriate filter for the toxin in the air," _Spock reported with calm satisfaction. _"I am sure you have captured the persons responsible."_

Kirk grinned, feeling a figurative load fall off his shoulders. "I have indeed," he replied with buoyancy. "What's the _Impala_ got to say?"

"_They have departed with a maximum load. All the injured will be left at the closest star base. _Impala_ will return with repair ships and an ambulance. Evidently Admiral Cartwright was unimpressed and tried to hinder aid efforts. However, Captain Winchester was most…emphatic."_

Oh, Kirk was so going to be sorry he missed that. "All right Spock, let's have everyone meet up in engineering. And I mean everyone. It's time to figure out how we're going to untangle this mess."

Kirk was soon storming through his ship with Spock at his shoulder, sweeping through damaged sections and assessing shattered, sparking systems with a critical eye. The hydroponics had been hit by an explosion and was operating at less than 30% efficiency. Carbon dioxide would start to overwhelm the scrubbers. But on the flip side, they weren't carrying a whole ship's complement of crew. Additionally, the bridge was completely inaccessible and suddenly Kirk was acutely aware that the _Enterprise_ was a sitting duck, dead and defenceless in space.

Not good.

Still, there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. Scotty was still trying to keep the _Enterprise_ from spilling vital air into cold, uncaring vacuum. At the very least, Kirk thought numbly as he helped Spock reinforce a cracking bulkhead, the injured were off the ship and the _Impala_ had left a shuttle and life pods behind that could hold everyone should the worst case scenario come to pass.

To top off the good news, he mused with dry humour, they were in the middle of nowhere, the Corelians were completely disarmed and the Klingons or Romulans had absolutely no idea where the _Enterprise_ was sitting.

"Picked a perfect time to get lost," he muttered to himself.

He saw Spock's amused eyebrow and knew the Vulcan understood completely.

* * *

><p><em>Impala<em>

"I don't give a _damn_ about your budget restrictions!"

Admiral Cartwright blinked and opened his mouth to let loose but the infuriated captain beat him to it.

"Starfleet's flagship was the victim of extensive sabotage and now the lives of over two hundred people are at risk. Two hundred people who just endeavoured to save the planet. Now, you _will_ patch me through to Admiral Pike or I will have you up on charges of attempted murder. _Impala_ out."

Captain Dean Winchester was in fine form and deadly serious about the last threat. He was tired of being treated like crap because he or Kirk happened to rub the admirals the wrong way. They wanted someone to get the job done, they put capable people in place. "You don't see me sitting on my hands whistling every time IO loses control of their agents or when the Admiralty pisses off some crazy fundamentalist," he grumbled irritably. "No, the _Impala_ runs off, gets beat to hell and saves the Admiralty from looking bad. Oh, and we happen to save a few lives along the way, keep planets from getting blown up, genocide, you know. Small peanuts. Not that Cartwright cares."

"We're being hailed by Admiral Cartwright," Sam reported.

Dean glared. "I don't want to talk to him unless he's going to be uncharacteristically generous."

Sam listened for a minute, tried to break into the rant several times and then simply said in tones of frigid steel, "We agree with our captain and we are _not_ going to mutiny. Whether you give us permission or not. _Impala_ out." He hung up with definitive force.

"How much shit are we going to be in for this?" Dean asked, not really caring.

Sam shrugged. "Depends on how pissed Admiral Pike is. I want to be a fly on the Admiralty wall when he finds out the_ Enterprise _is down to 48% atmosphere. It'd be entertaining, to say the least."

Dean thought about it for a minute and then smirked. "Agreed. Let's just go on being our usual disruptive selves. If Pike kicks up a fuss, they won't notice if we shanghai the whole damned star base, let alone a few repair ships."

* * *

><p><em>Earth – Admiralty<em>

"You said you couldn't provide repair ships _why_?"

Admiral Cartwright looked flustered as his usually quiet and calm peer proved that he hadn't been a desk-flying officer for long at all.

Normally, Pike's wrath was a long-fused thing, difficult to ignite. He was a notoriously calm and composed individual who acted in a prudent, logical manner. Hell, most of the admirals thought their second-newest peer was a saint for handling the two high-octane captains of the _Impala_ and the _Enterprise_.

But they had forgotten that like called to like and former-Captain Pike had been a terror in his own right.

"This Admiralty will provide every amenity the _Los Angeles _or the _Enterprise_ requests. We will hold a fair but speedy trial of the individuals involved. And it will be my recommendation to the judge involved that given their prior history, the individuals involved be sentenced to solitary confinement on Pluto for the rest of their living existence. Any man in this room who attempts to hinder the _Impala _or the _Washington_ in their relief efforts will answer to me. _Am I understood?_" Pike never once raised his voice and that was the truly terrifying part of the confrontation.

"We need to stop hampering our captains," Admiral Vance put in. "They are not children and contrary to certain individuals' beliefs, they are not idiots. Their track records speak for themselves: they are not perfect but they are damned effective." The newest Admiral's calming words reduced Pike's rage from a roiling boil to a heated simmer. "Pike, I think it would help matters along if you went out to Starbase 3 and streamlined the efforts."

Pike glowered at his ally, who met the heated admiral's eyes calmly. "While you do that, I will trust my own ships to assist. In the meantime, I will rework a few regulations and procedures so that this sort of situation never passes us by again. Perhaps all Constitution-class ship messages should automatically be expedited to their respective admirals." Vance tried not to hold his breath. Getting Pike to agree to anything at this point would be a battle unless he saw the immediate benefits that the _Enterprise_ or _Los Angeles_ stood to reap.

"Understood," Pike finally snapped out and stormed out of the room like a typhoon, leaving a room of shaken men behind him.

"Now then," Vance began, his own held-back anger coming to the forefront. "Because _you_ held an unprofessional grudge against this organization's flagship, which happens to be in the habit of saving planets, Admirals and Starfleet itself, _my_ ship is currently experiencing a 5% casualty rate and atmospheric loss. Would you care to explain yourself?"


	28. A Little Bit of Home

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS or NCIS: LA.

_It's the last chapter! Thanks for sticking through the long ride (this story was supposed to max out at 50 000 words. Obviously that was…extended) and a double dose of gratitude to everyone who reviewed. Reviews are the fine chocolate of the writing world and each one makes my day that much brighter._

* * *

><p><em><span>Epilogue<span>_

_Kirk_

"Scotty, I know you don't trust most Starfleet engineers any further than you can throw them," Kirk explained patiently, relishing the broiling sun warming his skin as he wriggled his toes in the clean white sand. "But honestly, you need a break. Pike said you weren't allowed on the _Enterprise_ until tomorrow. Let the structural engineers do their job and then you can take over when they're finished." He sipped from his cold beer and squinted out at the Pacific Ocean as his engineer tried to wrangle permission to board the _Enterprise_ early. Absent-mindedly, Kirk noticed that Chekov hadn't gotten himself drowned yet although Ash and Cas were doing their worst to drag the resistant Russian into the water. "Come down to the beach. Dean and John are going to barbeque steaks and Uhura's going to introduce Spock to marshmallows tonight. Food, booze, sun and fun."

There was a pause on the communicator and Kirk held his breath, hoping. Then Scotty caved. "Aye, that dinnae sound too bad, capt'n."

"Excellent. Get yourself down to the beach, Mr. Scott. Even Bobby's here in a Hawaiian shirt that should have died with the sixties." Kirk blinked at the sight of a florid blue, pink, orange and green shirt worn by the _Impala_'s engineer as Bobby and John sat at a picnic table under a huge yellow umbrella. Kirk was pretty sure they were friends but the way Bobby and John were glaring at each other over the checkers board did seem a little circumspect. Ducky was happily sitting to one side, offering advice to whoever seemed to be losing (which only made the match more flammable. Kirk suspected the _Washington_ doctor was doing it on purpose).

Kirk snapped the communicator shut and scanned the rest of the beach. Four command crews filled the private beach as Abby, Eric, Nell and Sulu kept adding wood to what was shaping up to be an enormous bonfire pile. Sam and Nate were busy puttering about in the tide pools, bringing back crustaceans for Hetty to inspect as the diminutive woman sipped from a very large glass of oddly coloured fresh iced tea on a lounge chair. Kirk still wasn't sure if he trusted alpha shift enough to drink anything that came out of their beakers but Hetty seemed to enjoy living on the wild side.

Dean, Gibbs, Ziva, Bones, big Jo and little Jo-jo were out in the water with Callen and Sam Hanna, playing some sort of convoluted water-football that involved little Jo-jo swimming circles around everyone with the ball in her possession as the men continually held each other under water, the girls actually played the game and everyone splashed about like seals. Uhura and Spock were stretched out beside Kirk, Uhura actually napping as Spock soaked up heat with all the relish of a lazy cat.

Kirk found his mind drifting back a few days to the official business he had so happily left behind.

* * *

><p><em>The <em>Enterprise_ had just barely managed to limp home. The damage to the ship was substantial and honestly, Kirk hadn't seen his girl in such poor condition since the _Narada_ incident. Kirk wasn't sure if he should feel grateful that he was in good company as he sat in his newly restored bridge and stared over at the _Los Angeles_, who was in marginally better shape than the _Enterprise_. _

_At least they hadn't lost their prisoners. Walker had 'accidentally' 'stumbled' into Hetty's experimental stasis pod and so far his life signs had been stable. Callen hadn't seen any need to move the slippery IO fanatic out of the pod, since sedating him until a high security prison ship arrived just wasn't an option. Kirk was still considering ordering Spock to come up with an identical experiment for Starc and Gain but Pike had arrived on the star base in time to put the kibosh on that idea. The admiral had stopped Kirk after Hetty calmly revealed that unintentional lobotomy could be an unfortunate side effect of utilizing the stasis pod._

_Pike had taken over the lion's share of the work, storming about the star base with efficiency and conviction. The man had all the patience in the world for any member of the four ships involved and precious little time for anyone attempting to hinder said crews. It made Kirk's life much easier, especially when abused ribs and sore muscles started to overwhelm his sense of duty and fading adrenaline._

_Still, he had managed to send Spock off to the infirmary, make up his reports and was still tagging after Pike as the admiral inspected the _Enterprise_ when Bones caught up with him._

* * *

><p>Kirk winced. That particular chewing out had been loud, virulent and very colourful. Pike had stood by, leaning on his cane in amusement as a tired Kirk nodded to everything Bones had said, mindful of the doctor's own injuries. Kirk didn't argue because he could see the exhaustion in McCoy's face. <em>Enterprise<em> had lost seventeen crew members to the explosion and gas. Bones took every death personally and therefore protected the survivors with all the force of a mama grizzly bear.

* * *

><p>"<em>Kirk. Go to bed. When you wake up, take your command crew and hitch the next ride to Earth. You're all on indefinite shore leave until further notice." Pike eyed his wavering captain with a critical eye. "That's an order, captain. Move your ass. And if you see either of the Winchesters, you tell them the same order stands. You are not, however to go looking for them." Damn. Kirk was hoping to find Dean in the <em>Enterprise_'s engineering section, drawing up repair schedules. _

_The next morning saw the prisoners being transferred off to the high-security prison ship. Kirk had inspected the transport crew and ship himself, Dean two steps behind him the whole time. To their satisfaction, the crew was experienced and capable, the ship formidable. As Dean put it, he'd met friendlier Romulans and the bleak look on Starc's bruised face said that the only sane member of the trio knew he wasn't escaping any time soon. _

_Kirk still wanted to beat the shit out of the prisoners but admitted to himself that he wasn't going to give Gain the satisfaction of giving in. Every time he saw the woman, she followed his movements with flat, cold eyes, a little half-smile on her face. As soon as she had regained coherency as Bones grudgingly let her out of sedative-land, Gain had remarked that Kirk wouldn't be able to resist physically assaulting any of the prisoners._

_Bones had heard that. To Kirk's unending amusement, Gain started inexplicably hallucinating and the prison guards couldn't seem to find an antidote for the drug floating in her system. When they questioned McCoy, the southern doctor had shrugged mildly, suggesting in a thick Georgia drawl that a side effect of a few drugs he had administered for Gain's injuries might have an unfortunate effect on the woman. _

_The guards had pointed out that the mad scientist had exactly three bruises on her arm._

"_Well, you know the drugs are working then, don't you?" had been the glib reply, innocent as anything._

* * *

><p>Kirk grinned, slipping his sunglasses further down on his nose as he crunched down on a handful of potato chips. The Admiralty had acted decidedly less like jackasses when Kirk had requested people or supplies, his ship was being repaired, everyone was in one piece and there was lots of sun and food. There was a lack of beach bunnies, he admitted to himself, but he was too engrossed in making sure none of his crew was in trouble to seriously chase after girls.<p>

Spock was still moving stiffly, Bones had yet to start grouching about his bruised ribs (which meant they hurt) and Chekov had strained a few muscles yanking McCoy up into the ventilation shaft. Everyone was a little banged up and Kirk couldn't help worrying.

A snap of terrycloth had a towel spreading out on the sand and a grunt saw Pike plunking down beside Kirk, cane falling to the sand. Pike pushed the detested thing further away from him in exasperation and Kirk had to work at keeping a straight face. "Sir," he greeted cordially. "Run away from your secretary?"

"Smartass." Pike kicked off his flip flops and gestured for a beer. Kirk obliged. "Nice day," the admiral sighed in relief. "Cartwright's handling my work for a day or two. If he screws it up, he's up on report for conduct unbecoming an officer, especially since he's borderline for how he's been treating you and Winchester."

Kirk scowled and jammed the bag of chips towards his superior. "Dude, you're ruining my afternoon," he complained. "Leave the stuffed shirts behind."

"Little snot," Pike retorted affectionately and took Kirk up on the chip offer.

* * *

><p><em>Dean<em>

Dean roared in laughter and scooped Jo-jo up, tossing her shrieking into an oncoming wave. When she popped up again like a cork, still clutching the brightly coloured football, he took the chance to sweep the beach, checking up on everyone. Bobby, Ducky and his dad still playing checkers. Who knew what Sam, Spock and Hetty were dreaming up and frankly, Dean didn't want to know. And everyone else was still in the water or tanning on the beach.

Situation normal, right down to Kirk and Pike stretched out on the beach. The _Enterprise_'s captain refused to wear a t-shirt and you could still see the mottled bruises spread over his torso. He and Spock looked like walking wounded and frankly Dean was glad Bones was wearing a board shirt. Watching Bones explain why Daddy felt sore to Jo-jo just wasn't high on Dean's list of priorities.

He had been standing up, looking in at the beach for too long because Jo and Jo-jo (a very deadly combination) nailed him with a duo attack – big Jo hit him behind the knees as little Jo crashed into his waist and Dean was yanked underwater, his face mashing into the sandy beach-bed. When he finally threw them off like Atlas shaking loose his chains, he was choking and sputtering as the two girls cackled like witches.

Dean was glad they were there to laugh like that.

* * *

><p>"<em>Where's Jo?" Dean demanded shortly. Jo's second in command reported that Jo was helping Cupcake with Starc and Gain, since the <em>Enterprise_'s security officer was a little dinged up from the explosions that had crippled the big ship. Dean frowned. He wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that. Oh, he trusted both Cupcake and Jo but Starc was big, mean and desperate. _

_Just because Dean was a worry wart, he took a small detour all the way across the _Enterprise_ to the rather smashed up security area. Between the crew breaking out and the explosions, the place looked like a war zone. Sticking his head in the door, Dean cased the situation at a glance. Starc had obviously thrown a bruised and wheezing Cupcake up against the wall and had a big meaty hand wrapped around Jo's throat. Gain was egging her goon on with strident shrieks of rage._

_Dean was going to step in when Jo rammed a pointy, violent elbow into the man's solar plexus, rammed that same fist down into Starc's groin and simultaneously used her other arm to break free of the choke hold. Then, with vicious pleasure and force, Jo slammed the back of her head into Starc's face. Dean heard the crunch of a broken nose and grinned. He loved his security officer._

_Still, he was pretty sure she'd appreciate the help and with the brisk motions of experience took control of the prisoner, wrapping durasteel zip-ties around Starc's wrists with punitive force. "Okay, Jo?"_

"_Fine sir," she panted, rubbing her neck and glaring at Starc. _

"_Cupcake?" Dean asked._

_The _Enterprise_ officer managed to catch his breath. "I think Dr. McCoy was right about those broken ribs," he admitted ruefully. "Thought I was all right."_

_Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Get your ass to the infirmary." Cupcake snapped out a brisk salute and hobbled off. "Now why can't you do that?" Dean demanded of his own officer._

_Jo raised her eyebrows. "I think your head is big enough already. Sir." _

"_My nose is broken," Starc moaned, sputtering through the fountain of blood streaming down his face. Dean propped his hands on his hips and considered the complaint. _

"_Jo, do we give a damn?"_

"_Not really, sir."_

* * *

><p>Dean smirked at the memory of her dry response. They had called Ellen down to assess the prisoner a few minutes later and she had definitely not been kind. Professional to a tee, but not kind. And because Dean considered Starc a high security risk, they got to leave him covered in blood. Just to piss him off.<p>

Jo had liked that. So had Dean.

Uhura was wildly waving a big towel down on the beach, gesturing to the huge grill. Pike was shovelling something that probably smelled fabulous from the barbeque to plates.

"Hey, grub!" Dean shouted and several wet heads swivelled towards the beach.

"Food!" Jo-jo crowed. "Last one there has to wash dishes!"

Dean let everyone dash through the surf. He alone knew that some very clever ladies had done the packing and everyone would be eating off paper plates instead of the usual plastic. No dishes to wash.

There was enough food to feed an army and the amateur pyromaniacs got to start the bonfire as soon as the sun started going down (Sulu resented being called an amateur until Sam Winchester pointed out that anyone not on alpha shift was an amateur pyro). Marshmallows came out, drinks circulated and everyone started to gravitate towards the bonfire, sitting down in clumps to talk, to just enjoy each other's company.

John refused to let his boys out of sight as Pike chatted with every single person on the beach, ensuring that he couldn't possibly to anything more for them. Kirk and Dean relaxed as Spock curled up under a big pile of blankets, disliking the chill off the ocean. Hot chocolate was dug out at Jo-jo's request as the little girl curled up on her dad's lap. Stars started to appear in the sky and a childish star-counting competition broke out, Sam Hanna proving he could maintain the focus necessary to count higher than most until Sam Winchester casually mentioned that he knew the exact number of stars in this sector and thus won by default. That was when Dean groaned and stuffed his brother's mouth full of s'more.

* * *

><p>When the night had grown dark and the bonfire burned down to dancing hues over glowing coals, Dean realized with a startled huff of laughter that he, Kirk, Callen, Gibbs and Pike were the only ones still awake, the five commanders still wide-eyed. Something in a captain's make up just meant that they couldn't pass into dreamland while their people were defencelessly out in the open.<p>

Tempted to poke a snoring Sam but suppressing the urge for the greater good, Dean creakily pulled himself off the damp sand and ambled over to plunk down beside Pike.

"Sir – "

"It's Chris, Dean," Pike urged. "I get damned tired of being an admiral."

"Chris," Dean tried out the name. It felt awkward, like a brand new pair of shoes that didn't quite fit just yet. "What are the chances of those three coming back to haunt us?"

Chris stared into the heart of the fire as Callen and Jim settled in closer to listen. "I don't know, Dean. If you're good at this job, you end up making enemies. Jethro knows that better than most." The quiet _Washington_ captain nodded wordlessly, sipping at his beer. "Sometimes those enemies are more determined than most. And you bunch aren't just good at your job. You're the best."

Jim stretched, yawning as he did. "Walker's crazy enough to fixate on us. Starc's pretty pissed. And Gain's certifiable."

Chris shrugged. "I'll keep tabs on them for you. But if they do get out, and that's a rather large if, you'd do well to look over your shoulder."

"Tomorrow's problem," Jethro added laconically.

Chris grinned. "The chatterbox captain's right. They're tomorrow's problem. Toasted marshmallow?" The admiral proudly waved a flaming hunk of sugar about, causing Callen and Dean to duck with a curse.

"That's not toasted, that's flambéed!"

Jim brightened. "Ooh, alcohol and marshmallows, that's a good idea! Dude, come help me with this!" Jethro laughed as Chris rolled his eyes in exasperation and the three younger captains immediately experimented with this new concept.

The first experiment of alcohol-soaked marshmallows was definitely explosive. "You think they're going to have eyebrows left come morning?" Jethro asked his superior with a wry smirk as the three captains-turned-children fought over the marshmallow toasting stick. Chris shrugged in amusement.

"Don't think so but the real question is whether or not the experiment's worthwhile and if so, how can we get them to make us some so we can keep our eyebrows."

* * *

><p>Two hours after that, Jethro and Chris were the only ones still awake, the three captains passed out courtesy of a rather potent combination of sugar and alcohol. "Good kids," Jethro commented.<p>

Chris hummed in agreement. He and Leroy Jethro Gibbs had a rather unusual understanding of the chain of command. Technically Jethro had more experience, had been in Starfleet longer than Chris. Unfortunately, the direct, sometimes abrasive man had made few friends with the higher command, had absolutely no ambition and would probably never rise above the rank of captain.

Thus Chris had the unusual experience of outranking a man who was probably as qualified to be admiral as he was himself. They weren't quite friends but definitely more than comrades and the admiral made sure to treat the _Washington_'s captain with the respect he deserved. "Look out for them up there, will you?" he asked Jethro.

"Can do," the veteran captain replied easily. "They're making dangerous enemies already."

"And they run headfirst into trouble," Chris grumped fondly. Jethro smirked at him and Chris got the impression they were moving towards being friends, allies in keeping the young idiots alive.

They sat staring into the coals of the bonfire and occasionally talking about anything that came to mind until the sun rose pink and John Winchester got up to make breakfast.

When the younger captains woke up, Chris finished off John's first stack of blueberry pancakes, stolen some bacon and curled up in a pile of blankets. He pointedly ignored Dean and Jim's comments about old men and drifted off to sleep, feeling decades younger and lighter, unwound and relaxed. Callen had suggested Jethro's solution but Chris was pretty sure he didn't want to try the tar-strong coffee. Jethro's preferred drink was an acquired taste and several people (_Washington _crew included) swore that Jethro didn't have blood in his veins any more, just strong coffee.

Plus the kids were big enough to look after everyone if he decided to take a break. They'd definitely proven that and if the past few months' events came back to haunt them, Chris was pretty sure they'd face the consequences with their usual courage, insanity and success.

_The End_


End file.
